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THE SAD STORY TO]>D. Page 92 



WEALTH AND WINE. 


BY 

MISS M. D.'CHELLIS, 

Author of “ The Temperance Doctor ” “ Out of the Fire^^ ^^Aunt 
DinaFs Pledge , “ Old Times, Lion’s Mouth,'” etc. 





mU) ¥odt : j 

National Temperance Society and Publication House, 
Ko. 58 Readb Stbeet. 

1874. 


■PZ'2. 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 
J. N. STEARNS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 


✓ 


J. Rosfi & Co., Printers and Stereotypers, 27 Rose St., N. Y 


OONTEE'TS 


CHAPTER I. 

One Day, 

PAGE. 

• • • 5 

CHAPTER II. 

One Conversion, 

. . • 26 

CHAPTER III. 
Tliis and That, 


CHAPTER IV. 

A Drunkard’s Wife, .... 

. . • 52 

CHAPTER V. 
Woman’s Responsibility, 

• . . . 70 

CHAPTER VI. 
Confession and Divorce, 

. • . 90 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Birthday Party, .... 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A new Beginning, .... 

. . . 112 

CHAPTER IX. 

Living in a Garret, .... 

. . *. 126 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER X. 

A Street Singer, 

• 

• 

PAGE. 

145 

CHAPTER XL 
The Choice, 



161 

CHAPTER Xn. 
The Warning, 



177 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A New Home 



187 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A widowed Bride, .... 



202 

CHAPTER XV. 
Poverty and Wealth, .... 


• 

218 

CHAPTER XVI. 
Temptation, 


• 

237 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Fashionable Drinking, .... 

• 

• 

256 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
Both sides of the Picture, . 

• 

• 

269 

CHAPTER XIX. 
Making Amends, 



285 

CHAPTER XX. 
Not a Prima Donna, .... 

. 

• 

299 

CHAPTER XXI. 
Three Weddings, 


• 

815 

CHAPTER XXII. 
The last Lesson, 

• « 

» 

330 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


CHAPTER L 

ONE DAY. 

OR once the rueful month of March 
was ushered in with a warmth and 
glow of sunshine which might have 
done honor to smiling, flowery May. 
Chickadees proclaimed merrily their own win- 
some name, as they gleaned in the stubble- 
flelds, or despoiled wayside grasses of their 
long-guarded treasures. On southern hill- 
slopes the snow had entirely disappeared, 
while brooks babbled noisy welcomes to the 
tiny rivulets which hastened to join them on 
their way to the great river. 

glad, happy morning,” said Mabel 
Pease, as she looked up to the bright, blue 
sky, and around upon the fair landscape. 
‘‘Everybody should be happy this morn- 

ing-” s 



6 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


‘^Are you always liappy?’’ asked an old 
man who leaned heavily upon his cane, as 
he regarded his companion with affectionate 
interest. 

‘^Not always,” she replied a little sadly. 
‘^But on such a morning as this, God smiles 
so lovingly upon us, it seems to me that we 
ought to rejoice and give thanks.” 

^^You think God’s smile is in the sun- 
shine ? ” 

do think so.” 

^^So it is, child, and in the storm as well. 
It’s not always that God is nearest to us in 
unclouded days. Young as you are, you 
have learned that by experience ; and I have 
been learning it for threescore years and 
ten.” 

This conversation was interrupted by a ring- 
ing voice exclaiming, ‘^All aboard for South 
Orchard ! Mabel, John, Jerry, and Nell, 
hurry up ! Mrs. Bent has made a hundred 
pounds of sugar, and sold it at an extra 
price.” 

Bo you believe that ?” asked Mabel, has- 
tening to obey the unceremonious summons. 

‘‘1 know it,” was the reply. ‘‘I have been 
over there this morning. Started before the 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


7 


sun was fairly up, and Mrs. Bent told me her- 
self. She has the earliest sugar-lot in town, 
though South Orchard isn’t much behind it. 
Rubber boots, every one of you, or you can’t 
go with me.” 

“How you do order folks round! ” said a 
young girl, sweeping back from her forehead 
a mass of wavy hair, over which she tied a 
jaunty cap of squirrel-skin. “ Mr. Raleigh 
Bedlow, are you the colonel of this regi- 
ment ? ” 

“To be sure I am, Jenny, Jerry, or what- 
ever is your name.” 

The speaker was gone, and half-way down a 
steep descent on the north side of the house, 
before any one could make answer to this. 
He had seen what others had not seen — a sig- 
nal of distress, a white streamer floating in 
the breeze ; and he knew that somewhere, not 
far away, he would be likely to find a boy 
who needed help. 

“What is it, John?” he asked, as soon as 
he saw the boy. 

“Nothing new,” was the reply. “But I 
want you to invite my mother to spend the 
day at your house. Father came home late 
last night, and when he wakes I shall have 


8 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


all I can do to manage him. I have emptied 
his jug, just as I told him I would, when- 
ever I could find it, and he will be terribly 
angry. Don’t let grandfather know. He has 
had trouble enough already.” 

‘^So he has, and so have you too. Better 
come to South Orchard and spend the day. 
We^mean to have a jolly time. Mother has 
been cooking for us all the morning ; to say 
nothing of the potatoes we shall roast in the 
ashes. Come with us, and let your father 
take care of himself. You said yesterday 
you wouldn’t bear much more from him.” 

know I did, and I’ve not changed my 
mind. But I can’t go with you. This may 
be my last day with my father, and I must 
go through with it. I wish you were not 
going so far away.” 

^^What do you mean, John?” 

mean that I may need you. When 
father is mad with passion or liquor, he is 
very strong. But I can manage some way 
if mother is beyond his reach. He will sleep 
for several hours yet.” 

wish I could stay at home,” now said 
Raleigh musingly. ^^But it is going to be 
a grand sap day, and we must make what 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


9 


sugar we can. I told grandfather, tlie first 
of January, that I calculated the old farm 
would earn something this year. I’ll come 
round for your mother, and then we’ll see.” 

Mrs. Bedlow was summoned to a private 
consultation with her son, and before a half- 
hour had passed, she welcomed a pale-faced 
woman, whom she addressed as Sister 
Jane.” 

am glad to have you with us to-day,” 
she said cordially. ‘‘I don’t expect to see 
the children again until night. Raleigh is 
very ambitious to make all the money he 
can this year. Father says he has taken a 
new start. I think John has had something 
to do with rousing him.” 

shouldn’t suppose Raleigh needed rous- 
ing. He seems to be always on the alert. I 
am thankful father has such a boy to depend 
upon in his old age.” 

‘^And I am thankful my boy has such a 
man to advise and help him. They are al- 
ways happy together too ; and now Mabel 
has come, our home is more cheerful than it 
has been any time since Oliver died.” 

am glad Mabel is here,” was all Jane 
Warland cared to say. Her thoughts were 


10 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


busy witli other scenes than those upon which 
her eyes rested, and she heard other voices 
than those of father and sister. She had been 
unwilling to leave her home that morning ; 
and now that she was away, she found it 
impossible to rid herself of a feeling of anx- 
ious suspense. 

Unknown to her, another shared this anxie- 
ty. Raleigh Bedlow was not so careless and 
light-hearted as he seemed, singing at his 
work, and suggesting new fields of explora- 
tion to his companions. When opportunity 
offered, he said to Mabel Pease abruptly, 
“You know about Aunt Jane?” 

“I know something about her,” replied the 
young lady. “I had heard of her before I 
came here.” 

“Well, her husband came home drunk 
after midnight last night, and John expects 
a row with him when he wakes up, and I 
ought to be there to help take care of him. 
Some folks would smooth over that story ; 
but I won’t smooth over anything for Has- 
tings Warland. If there is anybody in the 
world I hate, it is that man. Everybody else 
has some redeeming quality.” 

“You are very severe, Raleigh.” 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


11 


know I am, and I have reason to be. 
His own fainilj^ have cast him off entirely. 
He was rich once ; but now he is so poor he 
wouldn’t have a place to lay his head, if 
grandfather didn’t provide it. My mothei 
remembers the time when he thought it a 
great condescension on his part to speak to 
his wife’s relatives. If I had my way, he 
would leave this part of the country before 
sunset. My heart and my conscience are 
both hardened against him. If the time ever 
comes when I have any pity for that man, I 
shall be good enough to be translated. So 
much by way of introduction,” added the 
speaker in a tone somewhat less severe, 
u There’s a hill just beyond the woods, 
where I can look down on Aunt Jane’s lit- 
tle house; and John told me if I’d go there 
at noon, he’d let me knpw whether he want- 
ed me or not. If he does, I shall hurry on 
as fast as I can. If he don’t, I shall be 
back before the girls will have time to miss 
me. The potatoes are roasted, and Jennie 
knows how to keep everything right in the 
sugar camp. I wanted to tell you, so if I 
am gone long, you will know where I am.” 

From the summit of the hill, one glance 


12 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


nortliward revealed to Ealeigli Bedlow tlie 
fact that his cousin desired his presence ; 
and without a moment’s delay he hastened 
forward, regarding neither the banks of snow 
nor pools of water which lay in his path. 
The time seemed long, yet it was in reality 
short ; although quite sufficient to intensify 
his hatred for Hastings Waiiand. 

‘^Out of the house, you miscreant! Out 
of the house 1 Curse the day I ever saw one 
of your name!” 

To this greeting the intruder replied coolly, 
“That last remark of yours is the most 
sensible I ever heard you make. But where 
is John? Tell me that.” 

“Here I am,” called a half-stifled voice. 
“Come quick, Ealeigli.” 

Another moment, and the father was hurled 
from his position against a heavy door lead- 
ing to the cellar ; and his assailant was grop- 
ing in darkness. 

“Where are you, John?” 

“Here, in the old well. Open the south 
door, and then you can see. And do be 
quick. My right arm is broken, and I can’t 
move.” 

It was well that Ealeigh was a strong, stal- 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


13 


wart boy — fit representative of a race distin- 
guislied for strength and size. Without ques- 
tion, he obeyed his cousin, who had fallen so 
helplessly through the trap over the old well 
that he had no power to extricate himself. 
The water was not deep, but it had chilled 
him until he was nearly paralyzed ; so that 
when he was carried into the open air he 
seemed more dead than alive. 

‘^Now, I must get you home; there’s no 
question about that. But I don’t see how 
I’m to do it, unless I carry you. I wouldn’t 
leave you here with your father, any sooner 
than I’d leave you with a hungry lion. It 
looks as though he’d tried to kill you.” 

He threatened to kill me ; but don’t, don’t 
talk about it. I can’t bear it. I’ve tried to do 
my duty.” 

I know it, John ; and you’ve done it too. 
I ought to hold my tongue, but I can’t. I’m 
not as good as you are. I shall have to carry 
you home. You can’t stay here.” 

^^No, but somebody may come this way. I 
believe my ankle is sprained. If it wasn’t for 
that, I might walk. Father never was so bad 
before. I’m glad mother wasn’t here. Poor 
mother ! ” 


14 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


^‘Halloa there, boys! What’s the mat- 
ter ? ” 

‘^Matter enough,” Kaleigh Bedlow replied 
to this welcome salutation. We want some 
help.” 

It did not require a long explanation to 
make the matter plain to the kind-hearted 
neighbor who had arrived so opportunely. 

bad piece of business, but it might 
be worse,” he said with affected lightness. 
‘‘Hold on ten minutes, and I’ll be round 
with some kind of a team. You need warm- 
ing up the first thing. Here’s my frock, and 
Ealeigh can spare his.” 

“Of course I can,” was the quick re- 
sponse ; and presently J ohn was made as 
comfortable as circumstances would allow. 

True to his word, the neighbor returned 
within the specified time. Mr. Waiiand, too, 
having recovered somewhat from the shock 
received at the hands of his nephew, appeared 
upon the scene, and angrily demanded what 
was going on. 

“ I shall be back this way before long, and 
if you don’t find out before that time, I’ll tell 
you all I know about it,” responded Mr. 
Bradford. 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


15 


^^I’ve iiotliing to do witli yon. Leave my 
premises at once. John, come into tlie house. 
I command you to come, and Pm in no mood 
to be disobeyed.” 

^•^Hold on there, Waiiand. John couldn’t 
come into the house if he wanted to, and 
he wouldn’t if he could. You’d better mind 
your own business. If you don’t, you’ll get 
a steady home, where they’ll let you work for 
your board the year round. Don’t say a 
word, Raleigh. I’ve said enough for once. 
Wait till John’s taken care of. You hurry 
along the shortest way, and tell your folks 
they’re going to have company. Then start 
for the doctor, and don’t let the snow melt 
under Roan’s feet on the way.” 

Beyond a quivering of the lips, Mrs. War- 
land manifested no emotion when told that 
her son had been severely injured by his fa- 
ther. 

^^Mr. Bradford is bringing him here,” was 
added in the same breath. ^^Tell mother I 
am going for the doctor.” 

What is it ? ” asked Mr. Bedlow. What 
is it? John hurt?” 

‘^Yes, sir.” It Avas not necessary to make 
further explanation. 


16 


WEALTH AKD WIHE. 


‘‘I'VG been expecting sometliing worse than 
that,” said old Dr. Saunders, when Raleigh 
had delivered his message. If the boy an’t 
killed, there’s reason to be thankful. I don’t 
generally interfere with other folks’ business, 
unless I’m called on, but I’ll give that man a 
plain talk before I come back. I knew yes- 
terday he was getting ugly, and it was well 
for his wife that she was beyond his reach.” 

Dr. Saunders did not often stop to talk 
when he had business on hand ; and now, 
talking did not delay his preparations for 
the work before him. He followed fast after 
the messenger who had summoned him, and 
was welcomed both as friend and physician. 

John Warland was in the very room his 
mother had occupied when, as Jane Bedlow, 
she was called ‘^the handsomest girl within 
twenty miles.” Everything remained as she 
had left it, while on the bed lay her son, half 
unconscious of his surroundings. 

The present was less to him than the imme- 
diate past. He recalled every word spoken 
by his father that day. He felt the pain of 
every blow he had received in his struggle 
for life. He opened his eyes wearily when 
Dr. Saunders addressed him ; then closed 


WEALTH WINE. 


17 


tliem, as if lie would thus shut out some 
dreaded sight. 

The fracture of his arm was easily reduced. 
Time and judicious treatment would restore 
his ankle ; but the general condition of his 
system was not easily determined. It was 
evident that he had exerted himself to the 
utmost. 

^^My boy must not die!” exclaimed Mrs. 
VVarland, as she followed Dr. Saunders from 
the room. 

^^Do you love your boy?” he asked in 
reply. 

“Love him? Better than I love myself; 
better than the whole world besides. You 
don’t knowhow a mother loves. Love him? 
My life is bound up in his.” 

“Do you love him better than you love his 
f a t^" ? ” 

“ You have no right to ask me that ques- 
tion. I have said enough.” 

“Yes, my child, you have; and God 
knows I pity you. But your boy’ s fa- 
ther would have killed him. Did you 
know that ? ” 

“It can’t be so bad as that,” she answered 
despairingly. 


18 


WEALTH WIA'E. 


Jane, may I talk with you as I would talk 
with my own daughter ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, doctor.” And with an effort Jane 
. Warland raised her eyes to the face of her 
friend. The other members of the family 
were with John, and she led the way to 
the sitting-room. 

“I must begin by asking you a question. 
It may seem to you a strange one, but there 
is no time to waste. If you must choose be- 
tween your husband and your son, which 
would you choose? This is John’s last trial 
of strength with his father.” 

“ Don’t let my boy die, doctor. I can bear 
anything, if he is spared to me. Through all 
these years I have been silent. God forgive 
me, if I do wrong ! Now I must speak. To- 
morrow my lips may be sealed. It must be 
that I am unlike other women whose love 
never changes. They can love on through 
all cruelty and unkindness. I have prayed 
for strength to do my whole duty. Are you 
answered. Dr. Saunders ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, Jane.” And as the good man thus 
replied, he scanned her face closely. “You 
will not blame me for interference, if Has- 
tings Warland leaves you to those Avho wil] 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


10 


care for you. Your father is coming clown 
tlie stairs, and I must see liim for a short 
time.’’ 

Was it a dream? Had she been dreaming 
all these years, since she told George Saun- 
ders she could never love him ; that her heart 
had been given to another? 

His father was older than then ; but the 
tones of his voice and the light in his clear, 
blue eyes were the very same. If only she 
could wake to find herself a happy, joyous 
girl ! 

In the flush of his manhood’s pride, Has- 
tings Warland had wooed her to a home of 
wealth and elegance ; charmed her by his 
devotion ; and dazzled her by fancy sketches 
of their future happiness. She gave her love 
without stint or measure, while he loved her 
as the selflsh love. She was beautiful. She 
would adorn his home ; and if sometimes he 
caught glimpses of a spirit which might 
be roused to resistance, he thought of it 
as but adding zest to the life he antici- 
pated. 

The woman had 7iot been dreaming. Fear- 
ful realities confronted her. The unloved, 
unloving wife of a demon’s slave; not those 


20 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


wlio knew lier best could fatliom the depths 
of her wretchedness. 

Mother,” murmured her boy, as she laid 
her hand upon his head. 

‘‘Yes, dear,” she answered softly. 

“You are safe, mother. Don’t feel bad 
about me. I’m tired, but I shall get rested 
now. Grandfather said we might stay here 
always. I asked him. So you won’t go 
away. Promise me you won’t leave me, 
mother.” 

“No, John, ^we will stay here together, 
you and I. Now close your eyes and rest.” 

“I am so glad. I’ve done all I could for 
father.” 

As this was said, Raleigh Bedlow left the 
room, and was rushing from the house, when 
his grandfather called to him. 

“Yes, sir,” he responded. 

“Where now?” 

“I am going down the hill.” 

“Don’t go, my boy. It is no place for 
you now,” said the grandfather. “ Dr. Saun- 
ders is going there to speak with authority. 
There won’t anything be gained by hard 
words.” 

'“Yes, sir,” 


was the reluctant reply. 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


21 


‘‘But I want to tell tliat man that he’s no 
better than a murderer. I hate him ; and if 
John don’t hate him, he ought to.” 

It was no time to reason with the high-s]3i- 
rited boy ; no time to talk of forbearance and 
forgiveness. Mr. Bedlow knew that his wishes 
would be regarded, and for the present this 
was sufficient. 

Hastings Warland was standing just within 
the door of the cottage he had called home, 
when Dr. Saunders drove his horse to the 
very threshold. The old physician could be 
stern when occasion demanded ; and now, if 
ever, there seemed occasion for sternness. 
Yet something like pity stirred his heart as 
he looked at the man before him, noting the 
changes dissipation had wrought in a once 
handsome face and noble figure. 

Blear-eyed and trembling, gazing at the visi- 
tor in a strange, wild way, this man muttered, 
“What do you want here?” 

“I want to talk with you,” answered the 
doctor.. “I’ve just been called to see a boy 
who came near being killed to-day. His fa- 
ther tried to kill him. If the boy should die, 
there will be a legal investigation of the mat- 
ter, and it is necessary to get the facts of 


22 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


the case. Do you know anything about 
it?” 

“Who is the boy?” was asked stammer- 
ingly. 

Jolin Hastings Warland; and if he dies, 
yon will be his murderer.’’ 

The wretched man’s face grew livid. He ex- 
tended his arms imploringly, and fell to the 
floor as one smitten with sudden death. For 
one moment Dr. Saunders hoped that the end 
had come ; then, mindful of his duty, sought 
to restore the sufferer. He was successful, 
but it was long ere the tightly closed lips 
tipened. 

^^Will John die?” 

don’t know; I hope not, for his mo- 
ther’s sake. She has suffered enough in 
being your wife. But that is all in the past, 
and, if John lives, they can be happy to- 
gether. He loves his mother. If he dies, 
she will be very lonely, but she Avill be taken 
care of.” 

She’s my wife, and she’ll go where I do,” 
said Mr. Warland, forgetting all fear in his 
anger that any one presumed to speak of her 
future life. 

‘‘You may go to the State’s prison,” re- 


WEALTH AND WIKE. 


23 


plied Ills companion, every feeling of pity de- 
stroyed by liis lieartlessness. 

don’t believe Jolin is mncli linrt,” 
now responded tlie . unnatural father, with an 
effort to speak boldly. know the Bedlows. 
They are a low set, and can tell a story to suit 
themselves.” 

Stop that ! ” thundered the .doctor. ‘^An- 
other such word, and I’ll have you arrested 
within half an hour. You are to leave town 
before to-morrow morning, and you are to go 
alone. Don’t interrupt me. You have only 
to listen and obey. It will be for your inter- 
est to submit without opposition. If you 
leave quietly, your fare will be paid to any 
place you may designate. If not, you will be 
arrested for an attempt to murder your son. 
Perhaps you remember that you threatened to 
kill him. A strong case can be made against 
you.” 

^‘Who’ll pay my fare?” asked Hastings 
Warland in a tone of abject terror. 

‘‘That is no concern of yours,” was the 
stern reply. “It will be done to get you 
out of the way, and save an honorable fam- 
ily from, the disgrace of having you arrest- 
ed.” 


24 


WEALTH AjSD wine. 


He liad never anticipated such an hour as 
this ; never dreamed that tlie time could 
come when he would be obliged to go forth 
alone to battle with life. In all the wide 
world, there was not a home whose doors 
were open to him ; not one face which would 
brighten at his approach. Go where he 
would, there was not one to welcome him. 
His wife and child had been his servants, to 
do his bidding, and minister to his gratifica- 
tion. He had demanded from them all things. 
He had given nothing. 

“I have a right to see my wife,” he said 
at length. 

‘^Hight ? You have no rights,” replied Dr. 
Saunders. ^^You have no claim upon your 
wife or child. You have hardly a claim to be 
considered^ a human being. I have told you 
what you must do. Will you go from here, 
or shall I call upon an officer of the law to 
arrest you ? ” 

will go,” was replied with some hesi- 
tation. 

^^And remember you are never to return. 
Mr. Bedlow’s family will have nothing more 
to do with you. John says he has done all 
he can for you. You’ll never drag him 


V\^EALTII AND WINE. 


25 


down to your level; there’s too much of 
his mother about him for that. If I was in 
his place, I should want to open my veins, 
and let out every drop of your blood there 
is in them.” 

The father writhed in agony as this was 
said, yet ventured no remonstrance. He was 
forced to hear still more. 

Hastings Warland, have you any con- 
science ? Have you any thought of your ac- 
countability to God ? Have you any pride ? 
Have you any regard for anything in heaven 
or on earth ? Have you any feai\ of punish- 
ment in this world or another? Ho you re- 
member what you were, and do you know 
what you are? You were a handsome young 
man. You were well educated, and the pos- 
sessor of what many people would call an 
independent fortune. You claimed to be a 
gentleman. What are you now? You are 
a miserable, degraded, drunken pauper. That 
is what you are, and all you are ; and may 
God have mercy on your soul!” 


CHAPTER II. 


conyeesioi^. 

ELL, Raleigh Bedlow, so here you 
are at last. Now, just give au 
account of yourself. Cousin Ma- 
bel, Nell, and I have been work- 
ing hard ; and never sight nor sound of you 
for two or three hours. You are to be tried 
as a deserter, and punished accordingly. 
Why, Raleigh, what is the matter ? Are 
you sick?” asked Jenny, interrupting her 
speech. 

^^No, Pm not sick,” was his reply. Since 
I left you, I have been home, and worked 
harder than you have.” 

^‘What have you been doing?” 

Several things. First, I dragged John out 
of the old w’ell, and carried him out-doors. 
Then I helped Mr. Bradford get him on the 
spring-board, and then I went for the doc- 
tor.” 

A confusion of questions followed, which 

2G 



WEALTH AND WINE. 


27 


were so fully answered that the little group 
understood what had transpired. Jenny, 
whose feelings were easily moved, and who 
had not yet learned to control their expres- 
sion, sobbed bitterly, even while she denounc- 
ed in severest terms the man who could do 
such dreadful things. 

just wish lie was dead and out of 'the 
way, so we never should have to see him again 
in all the world. That’ s just what I wish !” she 
exclaimed. Then Aunt Jane and Cousin John 
could live with us, and we could all be happy.” 

Don’t wish any one dead,” said Mabel 
Pease. ^Mt is not right to do that.” 

don’t suppose it is. But what else can 
you do with such an awful man? He’s a 
curse, to the world. It an’t wrong to say 
that,” added Jenny triumphantly. “1 heard 
our minister say that drunkards are a curse 
to the world, and he knows.” 

Everybody knows that,” responded her 
brother. ^^Drunkenness is the curse of the 
world, and moderate drinkers are responsible 
for it. That’ s my belief ; and if I ever put 
the wine-cup to my lips, I hope my hand 
will be palsied, before a drop of the cursed 
stuff passes my lips.” 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


28 


^‘Cousin Raleigli, unsay that cried Mabel, 
springing to liis side, and laying her hand 
upon his arm. 

Unsay it? Never! The demon is in the 
wine. Ask Aunt Jane. She knows. She will 
tell you. If you had heard her talk, as she 
talked to John and me last winter, you 
would never ask me to unsay my words. 
Better, a thousand times, that my hand 
should be palsied than that I should drink 
wine.” 

^^You never will drink it, will you?” 
sobbed Nellie. 

Never,” he replied, folding his arms about 
her. promised father, before he died, that 
I would be a teetotaler to the end of my life, 
and I will. Tliere’s the only safety, let. peo- 
ple say what they will.” 

The bubbling syrup needed attention ; and 
the sap which had flowed freely since morning 
must be gathered. Work could not be neg- 
lected. The discussion was abruptly closed, 
yet no one could forget the occasion. Those 
who watched by the bedside of John Waiiand 
could hardly be more anxious than were his 
cousins at South Orchard. 

Raleigh was to spend the night in the 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


29 


sugar-camp, and Jenny, whom he usually 
addressed as Jerry, begged the privilege oi 
remaining with him. ‘^She could sleep on 
the hemlock boughs. They would make 
a great deal better bed than a good many 
poor children had,?’ she said, as she urged 
her suit. Mother will be willing, if you 
say yes. I want to have it to remember, 
when I grow up.” 

As usual, the child carried her point ; re- 
maining alone, while her brother drove 
through the woods, and saw Mabel and Nel- 
lie safely on the well-travelled road. Keturn- 
ing to the camp, he was welcomed Joyously. 

‘^What should I do without you!” she 
exclaimed, running to meet him. ^^What 
should we do, if you Avere bad and wicked? 
Mother says you are a real blessing to us 
all, and grandfather says so too. Is Cousin 
John just as good as you be?” 

great deal better,” answered Raleigh. 

‘‘I don’t believe that,” was Jenny’s quick 
response ; but her brother kneAt^ that in 
his cousin’s heart there Avas a deeper rever- 
ence for truth and holiness than he could 
claim. 

Through the night, as he Avatched the glow- 


30 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


ing coals making pictures of castle, and wall, 
. and terrace, only to fall in aslien ruins ; they 
seemed to him like the hopes and ambitions of 
life crushed by its stern realities. Yet, turn- 
ing from these fleeting pictures, and looking 
up to the clear sky, where the moon shone 
resplendent, and the stars gleamed brightly, 
he knew that over all of seeming ruin and 
disaster there is an Eye which never sleeps, 
and an Arm of strength which never tires. 
The night passed, and the morning dawned. 

It was not necessary that the boy should 
longer restrain his impatience to know of 
those at home. Rousing his sister from her 
slumbers, he led the way across fields studded 
with jewels of frost, and by the little brooks 
fringed with crystal drapery, without a 
thought of the beauty trodden beneath their 
feet. Intent upon reaching their destination, 
they cared for none of these things. 

There was no one to meet them as they 
sprang into the long kitchen. The stillness 
was oppressive. They listened at the foot of 
the stairs ; but not a sound could be heard, 
save the ticking of the old clock, which had 
stood in the hall for nearly half a century. 
Presently, however, their grandfather came 


WEALTH AKD WIHE. 


31 


from liis room with faltering step, and look- 
ing ten years older than he had looked the 
previous morning. 

‘‘Are you sick?” asked Jenny. 

“No, dear, I’m not sick. I didn’t sleep 
last night. Raleigh, my boy, it does me good 
to see you. You are my dependence. These 
dear little girls are a great comfort ; but we 
must look to you to fight the battles for us 
all.” 

“You can trust me,” replied the boy, with 
an earnestness which showed that he was not 
unmindful of his responsibilities. 

“I think I can,” said the old man. “If 
you fail me, I may well say that my pur- 
poses are broken off.” 

“How is John?” 

Raleigh had been waiting for an oppor- 
tunity to speak of his cousin, and now asked 
the question eagerly. 

“Two hours ago he was no better. I have 
not heard from him since,” was the reply. 
“Your mother said she would let me know 
if he was worse. The doctor was here all the 
first part of the night. Poor John must have 
a hard time at the best. He is a good boy. I 
wish I could do more for him.” 


32 


WEALTH AND WIIS^E. 


‘^He’s going to stay witli ns always, an’t 
lie, grandpa?’’ asked Jenny. 

‘‘I hope he will stay,” was the reply. 

he dies, his father will be his murder- 
er,” said Raleigh. I wonder how that man 
feels? I don’t suppose, though, he has any 
feelings like other people. If he had, he 
wouldn’t act so.” 

Don’t judge him too severely, my boy. 
He has the same feelings every drunkard has, 
only it may be that he’ s naturally more self- 
ish than some others. If he’d give up the use 
of liquor, he might be^ a respectable man.” 

^Ht’s too late for that,” was the quick re- 
sponse. ^^We can’t expect anything good 
from him. If he will only keep away from 
us, and Aunt Jane, and John, I sha’n’t trouble 
myself about what becomes of him.” 

You’ll not be likely to see him again; 
and I ask, as a favor, that you will never 
mention his name to me again,” said Mr. 
Bedlow. ‘‘Dr. Saunders will tell you more 
about him, if you wish to know more.” 

“And John, grandfather?” 

“We hope he will get well. He has a 
good constitution, and he will have the 
best of nursing.” 


WEALTH AISTD WIHE. 


33 


At the opening of this conversation, the old 
man had seated himself in an arm-chair, and 
now Jenny was standing beside him, with her 
arm thrown around his neck. love you, 
grandpa,” she said softly, as if thus she 
would comfort him in his great sorrow. 

And grandpa loves you,” he replied. 
don’t know what I could do without any of 
you.” 

John Waiiand had been delirious, and 
there was danger of brain fever ; yet rest 
and quiet might subdue the unfavorable 
symptoms, as all fondly hoped, and as the 
good doctor assured them there was some 
reason to expect. In the early morning, he 
slept for an hour, and this was cause for re- 
joicing. But there were no merry shouts, no 
glad anticipations, as one by one the family 
came together. 

Mrs. Warland, who had watched all night 
by the bedside of her son, seemed to have no 
thought or feeling beyond anxiety for him. 
Since her conversation with Dr. Saunders, 
she had not spoken of her husband, and evi- 
dently avoided any reference to him. 

Breakfast was eaten hastily, after which 
Raleigh and Jenny returned to the sugar- 


34 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


camp. Mabel and Nellie cbose to remain at 
home ; the former hoping to lighten the bnrdeu 
which had fallen upon her friends, while tli^ 
latter wished to help Aunt Jane. Later, Dr. 
Saunders visited his patient, and was able to 
report a decided improvement, although the 
danger was not yet past. Driving slowly, 
when he had reached the nearest point to 
South Orchard, he was accosted by Raleigh 
Bedlow, who had watched for his com- 
ing. 

‘^Can you stop a minute, doctor?” 

Yes, ten minutes, if there’s anything to be 
gained by it,” he replied. 

^AVell, sir, I want to enquire about John, 
and John’s father.” 

hope for the best for both of them. 
John is more comfortable than he was last 
night, and his father won’ t be likely to trouble 
anybody round here again at present. I start- 
ed him off last evening.” 

“But where could he go? I don’t see how 
he could have any money.” 

“His fare was paid to the place he chose for 
himself ; and when there, he must do what 
he can. I hope your grandfather’s family 
have done with him for ever.” 


WEALTH AHD WIHE. 


35 


I hope so, too, sir ; and if we have, I don’t 
care what becomes of him.” 

That’s not right, Raleigh; though, to tell 
the truth, I felt much the same way when I 
went to see him yesterday. But when I left 
him last night, without his knowing where he 
should find a shelter after he left the cars, or 
how he was to get a meal of victuals after he 
spent the money I put in his hands, I pitied 
him from the bottom of my heart. He is as 
wretched a man as there is in the world, unless 
he has drowned his wretchedness in liquor. 
Your Aunt Jane never ought to see him 
again. There’s no law of God or man that 
makes it her duty to live with him ; but I 
couldn’t help thinking it was hard for him 
after all. John is under no obligations to 
him. He has been no father to his boy ; but I 
do believe the man has some human feelings. 
He was all broken down when I turned to 
leave him, and he asked me, with tears in his 
eyes, if I wouldn’t shake hands with him. I 
couldn’ t refuse him ; and he told me then, as 
he clung to my hand, that he knew he had 
treated his family like- a brute, and deserved 
all he suffered. I reminded him that it was 
not too late to do better, and asked God to 


36 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


give liim a new heart and a right spirit. I 
tell yon, Raleigh, it’ s a hard thing for a man 
when he realizes that he’s entirely alone in 
the world because of his own wicked actions.” 

^^He can do better, if he’s a mind to.” 

Yes, that is true ; but in order to reform, a 
drunkard must have a terrible fight. It’s 
like Christian with Apollyon in the old alle- 
gory.” 

‘^There’s no need of being a drunkard.” 

‘‘True, my boy ; but there is only one safe 
way to keep clear of being a drunkard. Total 
abstinence is the doctrine that needs to be 
preached and practised. Nothing else will 
do.” 

“I know that, sir. I am going to preach 
and practise it all my life. Thank you for 
telling me about Mr. Warland and John. I 
can work a great deal better, now I know 
that man is gone.” 

The next day, Raleigh saw his cousin, who 
recognized him, and asked some questions in 
regard to sugar-making, adding: “I wish I 
could help you.” 

“You can help me about something else,” 
was the cheerful reply. “It is better than 
help, to hear you talk like yourself. But I 


WEALTH A^D WINE. 


37 


won’t stay to tire yon. Mother charged me 
not to. Good-by.” 

Cousin Mabel, I don’t know what we 
should do without you,” said the same 
thoughtful boy, as he joined Mabel Pease, 
who was standing by a south window in the 
sitting-room. 

could echo your words,” she replied, 
was very glad to come here ; and I am very 
glad you are willing to acknowledge me as a 
cousin, and count me a member of your 
family. When Aunt Martha died, she left 
me alone. But she had told me of your 
grandfather, and at last I ventured to write 
to him. My guardian thought I might be 
contented to live in his family.” 

“I am glad you were not contented. But 
it seems strange that you should rather live 
Imre.” 

^^It does not seem strange to me,” replied 
the young girl. ^^This is a home^ and Mr. 
Archer’s house could never be liome to me. 
After what you said yesterday, I should be 
more unwilling to live there than ever before. 
There is always wine on the table at dinner, 
and I have drank it myself.” 


38 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


Cousin Mabel, it is dreadful for 
you to do that. Don’t do it again!” 

never will,” she answered decidedly. 

I never heard any one talk about it as you 
did yesterday. I thought you spoke too 
strongly, but I’m not sure as you did. How- 
ever that may be, you have made one con- 
vert to total abstinence.” 

And who knows how much influence she 
may have 1 If all the women preached and 
practised total abstinence, the men would 
soon give up their liquor. That’s what I 
believe, and that’s what Aunt Jane says.” 


CHAPTER III. 


THIS AND THAT. 

ABEL PEASE was not thinking of 
clouds or of sunlight ; yet she stood 
gazing at the southern sky long af- 
ter she was left alone. The quiet 
and rest of the old farm-house were very 
grateful to her, and, as she had told Raleigh 
Bedlow, she was glad to be considered a mem- 
ber of the family. 

Left an orphan vdien too young to realize 
the loss of her parents, she had lived with a 
maiden aunt until she was fourteen years of 
age. Death then robbed her of this relative, 
and she was left to the care of a guardian ; 
who, immersed in business in a large city, had 
little time to bestow upon his ward. But he 
had been a friend of her father, and, so far as 
her pecuniary interests vfere concerned, was 
all which could be desired. 

He took her at once to his own home, where 
she was received not unkindly by his wife ; 

30 



40 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


yefcj wliere eveiytMng Avas so new and strange 
to the young country girl, that with each 
succeeding day she felt her loneliness and 
bereavement only the more keenly. Wel- 
coming any change that relieved her of the 
never-varying formality which chilled and 
repressed her ardent emotions, she was re- 
joiced to enter a boarding-school, where she 
might reasonably expect sympathy from those 
of her own age. 

Here her experience was not unlike that of 
scliool-girls in general, who desire to improve 
themselves mentally, while enjoying the plea- 
sures of social intercourse. She Avould will- 
ingly have prolonged the years of study ; but 
at nineteen she had finished the allotted 
course, and was then thrown upon her own 
resources. 

True, Mrs. Archer had plans for her future, 
which only requmed her co-operation, to se- 
cure what this lady was pleased to term an 
enviable position. Unfortunately for these 
plans, hoAvever, Mabel had some old-fashioned 
ideas in regard to usefulness and happiness. 
These ideas, also, were deeply rooted, and 
their possessor could not be easily infiuenced 
to abandon them. Despite Mrs. Archer’s 


WEALTH Wi:?^E. 


41 


most x)ersistent efforts, the marked individ- 
uality, which was the birthright of Mabel 
Pease, would assert itself. 

You are a miniature edition of your Aunt 
Martha,” one day said her guardian, when 
Mabel had expressed herself strongly in re- 
gard to a question under discussion. ‘^She 
was a handsome, lively girl, and a great favor- 
ite ; but she had opinions of her own about 
everything ; and when she had once made up 
her mind, it was of no use to try and change 
it, unless you could convince her by fair 
argument that she was Avrong.” 

^ ^ I think Aunt Martha Avas a very lovely 
Avoman,” replied her niece Avith emphasis. 

“1 agree with you there,” was the quick 
response. ^^She Avas a very lovely girl. I 
Avas five years younger than she was, and she 
looked upon me as a boy long after I consid- 
ered myself a young man. When I was fif- 
teen, I was in love Avith her, and told her so. 
Of course she laughed at me in a kind way, 
and assured me that I should forget her be- 
fore I Avas t-Aventy-one. But I have never for- 
gotten what she seemed to me then. So, Ma- 
bel, you cannot think more highly of your 
aunt than I did. But, for all that, I should 


42 


WEALTH ATSTD WmE. 


be glad to see yon a little more willing to con- 
form to tlie wislies of others. You have a 
comfortable fortune, and there is no reason 
why you may not enjoy a few years of gaiety 
and pleasure, before settling down to the cares 
of housekeeping.” 

Perhaps I shall never settle down to the 
cares of housekeeping,” answered the young 
girl lightly. 

^^Well, well, we won’t talk about that. 
Time enough for that when you are older.” 

Lovely, charming, beautiful.” All these 
adjectives were used in describing’ Mabel 
Pease. Yet she had eccentricities. She would 
speak truthfully when called upon to express 
her sentiments ; and she would follow the dic- 
tates of her own conscience, rather than the 
caprices of those with whom she associated. 
A season, which even Mrs. Archer pronounced 
a grand success, and which might have flatter- 
ed an older and wiser woman than our hero- 
ine, did not materially change her estimate of 
life. 

The fact that her immediate surroundings 
were not such as she would have chosen was 
conducive to this result ; and while others 
were discussing the comparative merits of 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


4B 


fasliionable resorts for tlie summer, slie wrote 
to Mr. Bedlow, asking if lie would allow her 
to spend a few weeks in Ms home. To this 
letter Raleigh, acting as his grandfather’s 
amanuensis, had replied cordially ; and the 
summer before the .opening of this story, Ma- 
bel had come among them for the first time. 
Late in the autumn she went to her guar- 
dian’ s for the winter months, and had now re- 
turned to her country home, glad to escape 
the wearying round of frivolities, in which 
Mrs. Archer found her highest happiness. 
She knew that she could resist the influence 
of this lady, and in time surround herself 
with congenial friends ; but there were rea- 
sons why she wished to establish new rela- 
tions before becoming of age. 

Mrs. Archer had a nephew who was a fre- 
(] :ient visitor at her house, and whose atten- 
tions to Mabel were more marked than agree- 
able. The young man had studied the pro- 
fessiion of law ; but, too indolent to attempt 
the ,hard work necessary to gain distinction 
or large pecuniary reward, he had drifted on ; 
until now, at thirty years of age, some change 
in his circumstances was imperative. He lived 
in bachelor quarters, in a style of easy ele- 


44 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


gance, wliicli had thus far been supported by 
property inherited from his father, and a 
small salary paid him by Mr. Archer for cer- 
tain assistance in business. But a fortune 
upon which constant drafts are made will di- 
minish rapidly ; while habits of self-indulgence 
become stronger and more expensive. 

He was troubled by this state of affairs, 
which he did not care to conceal from his 
uncle, who told him plainly that he must go 
to work ; that it was a shame for a young 
man with his talents and acquirements to be 
spending his time to so little purpose. ‘‘It 
does for pretty girls, who have nothing to do 
but dress handsomely and spend their OAvn 
or their fathers’ monej^-,’’ remarked the gen- 
tleman. ‘Ht’s a pity you and Mabel couldtf t 
make an exchange of ideas. She wants to do 
something, somewhere, to benefit the world. 
You want to take life easy, and get all you can 
out of the world with the least possible effort. 
That’s the way it looks to me. Now, isn’t 
that true?’ was asked good-humoredly. 

“1 can only speak for myself,” replied 
Winthrop Hayes evasively. 

‘ ‘ That’ s the only one I want you to speak 
for. I understand my Avard, and, if occasion 


WEALTH AND TYINE. 


45 


requires, slie can speak for lierself. I wish 
you had more of her spirit.” 

That’s not a bad wish, sir. But it seems 
hardly necessary for Mabel to think of any- 
thing beyond her own enjoyment. If re- 
ports are true, she has an ample fortune.” 

^^She has enough to support her comfort- 
ably,” responded her guardian, looking 
sharply at the young man before him. 
^‘She will understand how to manage it 
too. She would make a good business man- 
ager, and I’m not sure but she would like 
to engage in business.” 

Mabel Pease engage in business!” ex- 
claimed Winthrop Hayes. ‘‘1 can conceive 
of nothing more absurd.” 

‘‘The idleness and dissipation of many of 
our young men is far more absurd,” was the 
reply. “You may be sure of one thing in 
regard to Mabel : she will do as she pleases 
without consulting Mrs. Grundy.” 

‘ ‘ But, as her guardian, you can have some 
control over her.” 

“I manage her j)roperty, not her. She is 
getting of an age to act for herself. But 
all this talk has nothing to do with your 
affairs. What do you intend to do?” 


46 


WEALTH A]S"D WIjN'E. 


don’t know,” replied the young minj 
with a slirng of liis slionlders, wliick said 
more plainly tlian words, that the whole sub- 
ject was disagreeable to him. 

‘yBut you must do something. There’'s 
Hilton, who started when you did. Some- 
body told me yesterday that he was doing a 
good office business, besides having made 
some pleas that attracted attention. You 
ought to have done as well as he has. You 
had more talent and better advantages.” 

‘Y think that is true. Hilton is a regular 
plodder. He has done nothing but plod since 
I first knew him. All the time he was getting 
an education, he worked at anything that 
would bring him a dollar, besides studying 
as though his life depended upon it,” re- 
plied Winthrop Hayes impatiently. 

^‘His success in life depended upon it. 
More than that, he has a mother and young 
sister who look to him for a home. I heard 
him pretty thoroughly discussed yesterday, 
and the general opinion is that he is a rising 
young man. To speak plainly, Winthrop, 
I wish you were more like him. Your aunt 
thinks a good deal of you, and so do I. It’ s 
plain to be seen that matters are going wrong 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


47 


witli you ; and a man of your age must be 
gaining or losing. He can’t stand still. An- 
other thing — and you must not take it un- 
kindly if I speak plainly — I am afraid you 
drink more wine than is good for you. I am 
no fanatic on the temperance question ; but 
I know that many of our young men are in 
danger of drinking to excess.” 

‘ ^ What is excess ? ’ ’ asked Mr. Hayes, glad 
to turn attention from his own personal ha- 
bits. 

^‘That depends upon circumstances,” was 
the prompt reply. ^^When a man finds his 
face flushed, and his head whirling, after he 
has been drinking wine, he may be sure that 
he has drank to excess. You know what 
excess is as well as I do. You don’t need 
to have this explained to you.” 

“You drink wine, Mr. Archer.” 

“That is true, and I consider myself a 
good judge of wine ; but I never indulge in 
its use to the neglect of my business. I keep 
my head clear. And as for suppers, where 
our leading men drink wine and champagne 
until it is difiicult for them to recognize 
themselves, they are a disgrace to all con- 
cerned. If a man can’t drink moderately, 


48 


AVEALTII AND WINE. 


mry moderately, lie onglit not to drink at all. 
That’s my opinion ; and, if I had boys. I’m 
not sure but I should go strong for total ab- 
stinence.” 

Really, Mr. Archer, you have delivered 
quite a temperance lecture,” said his compan- 
ion laughing. ‘‘You talk nearly as strongly 
as Hilton used to ; only he went for total ab- 
stinence, boys or no boys. I can’t say that I 
do. I believe in a man’ s being able to manage 
himself.” 

“ So do I, AVinthrop. I believe in self-con- 
trol, easy as I seem. But the trouble is that 
when one’s brain is heated with wine, the pow- 
er of self-control is lost. And such things 
grow upon a man. Once or twice in a lifetime 
don’ t count for much, but no one knows where 
they will end. There are men in the gutter 
to-day who, twenty years ago, had as good 
prospects as you have now. Yes, better ; for 
they attended to business regularly. So you 
see it is possible that you may some time be 
where they are.” 

“You insult me!” exclaimed AYinthrop 
Hayes angrily. 

“ No, I do not,” was the firm reply. “ I am 
telling you the truth this morning, because I 


WEALTH ATs-^D WIISTE. 


49 


am yoiir friend. You told me that things 
were looking dark to you, and you didn’t 
quite know what was best for you to do.” 

^‘Yes, I did, and I have no reason to be 
offended at your plain speaking,” said the 
young man, moved to this acknowledgment 
by motives of policy. 

‘^That is right. We are all of us hasty 
sometimes. Now, you must set about reform 
and retrenchment. Apply yourself diligently 
to business. Earn more, and spend less. If 
you’re like other young men, you’ll be think- 
ing of getting married and settling down to 
family life ; and of course you can’ t do that 
unless you can provide for a family. I have 
wondered at your living a bachelor as long as 
you have.” 

must marry a rich wife — one who can 
provide for herself, and will count ifc a privi- 
lege to provide for me.” This was said light- 
ly, as though prompted by a momentary ca- 
price ; but Mr. Archer was too shrewd to be 
thus deceived. 

‘Won will marry a very foolish woman, if 
you marry one who is willing to support you 
in idleness,” was his reply. A young man 
ought never to speak in tiled way. If I ever 


50 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


see you attentive to a ricli woman, I shall un- 
derstand your motive, and consider it my 
duty to speak a word of warning.” 

For once, Wintlirop Hayes was thoroughly 
dissatisfied with himself. Mr. Archer had 
neither fiattered him nor offered him assist- 
ance. Moreover, it had been made reasonably 
plain to him, that in his efforts to win the 
favor of Mabel Pease, he could not count 
upon the influence of her guardian. Her 
character, as has been described, was not to 
his taste ; yet he could not deny that she was 
very lovable, and very charming. As his wife, 
she would doubtless see the propriety of 
yielding to his wishes, and allowing herself 
to be guided by his judgment. 

He was forced, however, to the mortifying 
conclusion that thus far he had made little 
progress towards the accomplishment of his 
purpose ; and he went to his rooms, mortified 
with the result of his conference with Mr. Ar- 
cher. He wondered if life could hold for him 
disagreeable possibilities. 

He was vain, selfish, and conceited ; yet he 
could be very fascinating and entertaining. 
Five years, before he had been considered an 
eligible match and was a great favorite. His 


WEALTH AIS^JD WINE. 


61 


aunt flattered liim ; and althougli slie did not 
know tlie exact amount of property belonging 
to Mabel Pease, she had decided that this 
young lady would make a fitting wife for her 
nephew. Her fondness did not wholly blind 
her to his faults, yet she was always ready to 
And excuses for them. 

‘‘You must expect him to indulge in a little 
pleasure before he settles down to life in 
earnest,” she said to her husband, by way 
of apology for his want of aj)plication. “A 
good wife will make everything right for 
him.” 

“A good wife deserves a good husband,” 
was the reply. “I should be sorry to see any 
one of my friends sacriflced upon the altar of 
Winthrop Hayes’s selfishness. I have a warm 
regard for the young man ; but, if he makes 
shipwreck of his own life, there is no reason 
why another should go down with him.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

A drunkard’s wife. 


R. BEDLOAV entered tlie sitting- 
room, and Mabel Pease, unmindful 
of tire tears wliicli trembled in lier 
eyes, turned lier face towards liim. 

‘^Sometliing troubles you,” lie said kindly. 
^^What is it, cliild? Can I help you?” 

don’t know that you can,” she answered 
with some hesitation. Every thing seems 
going wrong. I find no resting-place for my 
feet.” 

There is the sure rock of ages — a firm 
foundation, which can never be moved. AVe 
can all plant our feet upon that rock — the 
poor as well as the rich. Besides, most folks 
would think you had everything to make you 
happy. You have money enou2:h, so you can 
live to suit you.” 

^^Yes, sir; and just nowit suits me to live 
here. But Aunt Martha used to say that 
everybody ought to contribute something to 




WEALTH AND WINE. 


53 


the good of the world ; and the more people 
had, the more they should do. I am doing 
nothing.’’ 

That’s not quite true, child. To-day I 
have heard every one of the family say, ^I’m 
glad Mabel is here,’ or ^What could we do 
without Mabel V If we had been shut up 
entirely to ourselves, our calamity would seem 
greater than it does now. You are a great 
comfort to poor Jane. I can see that by the 
way she looks at you.” 

^^Do you think so?” was asked eagerly. 

Certainly I do, child. You are a comfort 
to us all. We have lived in fear for a great 
while, and bad as it is, we have reason to 
be thankful that nothing worse has come. 
I believe John will live, and some time be as 
well as he ever has been. Thank God for 
that ! It may be that he needed all this 
trouble and pain.” 

How can that be, Mr. Bedlow ? I suppose 
no discipline comes to us without a purpose ; 
but how can this be necessary to John?” 

The old man was silent for a moment after 
this question was asked, and Mabel was about 
to apologize for unintentional rudeness, when* 
he said, John’s father was a wine-drinker; 


54 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


and when John was a little boy, he would 
drink wine himself whenever he could get it. 
He had a natural taste for it, and it’s likely 
he’s got the same taste now; though I’ve 
thought lately that he had principle enough 
to let it alone. His love for his mother has 
kept him, and since he came here, he’s been 
away from temptation.” 

•^But it can’t be that John would ever 
di^ink to excess. He is so refined and delicate, 
he would never do that.” 

^^Why not, child? There never was any- 
body but what might fall, if they got on the 
wrong ground. I am an old man. When T 
was young, everybody drank ; but it was an 
evil thing then, and the evil* is visited upon 
children’s children. It’s different now from 
what it used to be, but there’s a great 
deal of liquor drank nowadays. They say 
most all the rich folks in the cities drink 
wine.” 

A great many of them do,” replied Mabel. 
‘^But do you think every one who drinks 
wine is in danger of becoming a drunkard?” 

'Wes, child, I hiow so.” 

• But every one does not become a drunk- 
ard.” 


AYEALTII AiS^I) WINE. 


65 


Oh ! no : but, for all that, there is danger. 
Jane didn’t think so when I warned her 
against marrying her husband. Lessons must 
be learned by experience, and experience is a 
hard master. Mabel, child, there’ s nobody in 
the world that has a right to tell you what to 
do, and what not to do ; but I beg of you 
never to trust your happiness to a man who 
hain’t a firm principle against drinking liquor 
of any kind. Such a woman as you are ought 
to do a great deal for temperance. You can 
have a g]*eat influence, and you’re in duty 
bound to use it on the right side. Perhaps 
you hain’t thought much about this?” 

^‘No, sir, I have not. Mr. Archer drinks 
wine at dinner, and so does his wife. Most of 
their guests join them, and I have never 
thought there was any harm in it. But I 
know now that it is wrong, and my influence 
shall be against it. 'No one shall see me taste 
of wine again.” 

^‘If drinking wine is bad for you, it is bad 
for young men.” 

Mabel smiled, as she replied to this remark 
of her friend. ^‘Yes, sir, I understand you. 
If I ever marry, my husband must be as strong* 
a total abstinence man as I am.” 


56 


AVEALTir AA"D AVIXE. 


‘^Fni glad to liear that, child. I’a^c been 
anxious about you, and an old man like me 
must talk about his troubles, if he can find 
anybody to listen to him. Tve felt to-day as 
though I’d got most through A\dth this Avoiid, 
and my mind goes back to the old days. 
Jane never kneAV Avhat hardship Avas Avhen 
she lived at home. Her mother and I thought 
she A\^as too good to Avork as the other girls 
round here did, and Ave sent her aA^ay to 
school. I neA'er see a handsomer girl than she 
Avas Avhen she come back. But she A^an’t 
contented to stay.” 

This last Avas said in a Ioav, murmuring 
tone, as though th^ speaker Avas unconscious 
of giving utterance to his thoughts. Hoav 
often he had lived over the days Avhen Jane, 
his Jane, made the old house bright AAith her 
presence ; flitting through the rooms like a 
sunbeam, and pouring out the gladness of her 
heart in rhythmic melody. He could close 
his eyes and see her as she Avas then — ^liis OAvn 
darling ; dearer than his life. 

But betAAeen that time and the present 
long years had intervened ; years Avhich had 
brought to the daughter the deepest suffering 
a Avoman may knoAA^, and to the father a 


WEALTH AKD WIHE. 


57 


bitterness of disappointment no words conld 
describe. Jane Warland’s motlier liad died 
before tlie full extent of lier calamity was 
known. 

Too proud to acknowledge her unhappiness, 
the wretched wife forced back her tears, and 
mingled with the laughing crowd, herself the 
gayest of them all. Yielding to her husband, 
rather than rouse his anger by opposition, her 
better nature was fast losing its sway. She 
was a brilliant woman ; she could command 
admiration ; and but for her boy, whom she 
well-nigh worshipped, she would have been 
utterly reckless. 

Yet she was slow to realize that the demon 
of the wine-cup was the bane of her life. She 
sipped the sparkling poison, dreaming not of 
danger. But there came an hour — an hour 
she could never recall without a shudder — 
when cruel, taunting words made her aware of 
her condition. Horror-stricken, she stood 
aghast at the ruin which threatened her ; 
and then, with resolute will, put aside the 
tempting cup. Henceforth it was not for her 
to drown her sorrow, or dull her sense of pain. 
She could bear anything, rather than the loss 
of her own self-respect. 


58 


WEALTH AiS^D AVIATE. 


Gradually slie retired from tlie circle in 
wliicli it liad been lier ambition to shine, and 
deA'oting herself to home duties, sought to 
make amends for the past. To this her 
husband did not object. Indeed, his oavii ex- 
travagant habits made such large demands 
upon his purse that he was more than willing 
his wife should retrench her personal ex- 
penses. He cared no longer to hear her 
praised ; and if he did not at this time regard 
her with positive dislike, his feelings Avere 
strangely at A^ariance Avith his conduct. 

Year by year he had fallen loAA^er ; his for- 
tune decreasing, and his exactions becoming 
more intolerable. The house in which he had 
resided since his marriage Avas sold to meet 
the claims of creditors ; and to his surprise, he 
found himself the possessor of less than a 
thousand dollars. In this emergency he ap- 
pealed to his relatives, AA^ho in turn appealed 
to his j)ride and ambition, as motives for re- 
form. They remonstrated with him, as they 
had often done before; and as a last resort, 
offered him pecuniary assistance, if he would 
give his attention to business. It was no time 
to assert his boasted independence. To obtain 
money, he must simulate penitence ; and this 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


GO 


lie did, wliile he cared only for means to 
gratify liis love of intoxicating drinks. 
Every thought and feeling was absorbed by 
this passion. He removed his wife and son to 
a small, cheap tenement, providing for them 
nothing beyond the common necessaries of 
life. Once he would have scorned such a 
home for those who bore his name ; now it 
mattered little to him. 

Every possible precaution was taken to pre- 
vent an improper use of the money invested 
for his benefit, but he eluded the watchfulness 
of his friends, and within a few months was 
again deeply in debt. 

Meanwhile, his wife sometimes suffered for 
the want of food. This need not have been ; 
but she was too proud to make known her 
wants to her own relatives, and too fearful of 
consequences to betray them to her husband’ s 
family. The latter had offered to take John, 
and educate him as befitted his true position ; 
and it had been only a spirit of opposition, 
which prevented his father from acceding to 
the proposal. The boy’s mother could en- 
dure anything rather than this. 

Experience had taught her many lessons of 
wisdom, and she knew if her son was to be 


60 


WEALTH AND WIIS^E. 


saved to liimself and to lier, lie must be sur- 
rounded by influences wliicli would develop in 
liiin great power of resistance and self-control. 
He could never indulge in tlie moderate use 
of stimulants. His clioice lay between total 
abstinence and reckless dissipation. He liad 
many traits of character which placed him far 
above his father ; and yet he was born under 
the curse. 

It is not necessary that I trace the gradual 
descent of this family from poverty to abject 
want. Theirs was no peculiar experience of 
wretchedness. All over our land there are 
wives and children, who have once known the 
comforts of luxurious homes, now working in 
close rooms to earn a meagre supply of the 
coarsest food ; while husbavuds and fathers, 
false to every sacred pledge, and every obliga- 
tion of duty, spend their time in drunken 
revelry and debauch. 

Hastings Warland was at length cast off by 
his relatives, and driven from their doors, with 
the injunction never to return. Still, how- 
ever, they repeated their offer to educate his 
son. But, with a fearful oath, he swore that 
no child of his should be a dependent upon 
their bounty. 


WEALTH WINE. 


61 


This final repulse maddened him. He had 
no care for the future, no thought for the 
present. He would remain away from his 
miserable home for weeks, returning when he 
could not find shelter elsewhere, and seeming 
to know by intuition when his wife and son 
had earned enough to make themselves more 
than usually comfortable. He made no pre- 
tensions to any regard for them ; yet he 
claimed their service, and appropriated the 
proceeds of their labor. Hoping to rid them- 
selves of his presence, they removed to a 
neighboring city. But here he found them. 

At last, driven almost to desperation, Mrs. 
Warland wrote to her father, accepting the 
assistance which had before been offered. 
Winter was upon them, and neither she nor 
her son could find employment. She con- 
cealed the money sent by her father ; paid 
the rent of the rooms she had occupied for 
a month ; and in the absence of her husband, 
started on her journey to her old home, where 
she was welcomed cordiall}^ and lovingly. 

The cottage was repaired, and furnished 
comfortably. She could be happier there 
than in her brother’s family, and she had 
already made plans for her own supjiort. 


63 


WEALTH AND WIN^E. 


when the man she most desired to escape 
entered her dwelling. How she loathed hi^ 
presence : loathing herself also, that she 
had given him the right to call her wife ! 
She might appeal to the law ; but from this 
every feeling of delicacy revolted. 

John 'Waiiand, now fifteen years of age, 
knowing that other men had been reclaimed 
from the depths of degradation, resolved to 
make one more effort to save his father. 
‘^Only this once,” he said to his mother. 
^‘If we fail now, we will give him up, and I 
will stay with you, whatever comes. It seems 
as though he would do better with Grand- 
father Bedlow so near.” Vain thought. 
The winter had been spent in useless efforts to 
reclaim him. No one in the town would sell 
him liquor, and yet he managed to obtain it. 
Never before had he been so utterly reckless 
of consequences. 

Now it was all over. He had gone, they 
knew not whither ; and so that he did not 
return, they were willing to remain in igno- 
rance of his fate. 

The days went by, some bright and glad 
with promise, others dark and threatening. 
There was sunshine and storm ; the gentle 


WEALTH AIS'D WIKE. 


63 


breeze wliicli softly fanned tlie clieek of 
beauty, and the fierce wind which swept 
down hillsides and through valleys like a 
devastating host. 

Gazing from the windows of his room, John 
Waiiand noted these changes, as slowly he 
regained health and strength. He was rest- 
ing, yet never was his mind more active. The 
possibilities of his life passed in review before 
him, while he recalled the vicissitudes he had 
already exj)erienced. 

Childhood amid luxury and elegance. 
Tables glittering with silver, and spread with 
choicest viands. Feasts, and fiow of wine. As 
a dream, these vanished, to be succeeded by 
cheerless rooms scantily furnished — a plain 
table, and the coarsest food. As a child, he 
had been clad in daintiest garments, and 
shielded from every annoyance : as a lad, he 
had dressed cheaply, and made his way with 
others who struggled for a foothold in the 
Avorld. 

He had sold papers, carried parcels, shovel- 
led snow ; and occasionally, for a few days 
at a time in busy seasons, been employed 
in a store, where he received regular wages. 
Yet, with all these discouragements; he had 


64 


WEALTH AA'D WlI^'E. 


procured sucli books as lie required in school, 
and maintained his rank as a scholar. 

Of course he had plans for the future, as 
what boy has not ? He wished to be a 
merchant ; to buy, and sell, and make a for- 
tune — a grand, reliable fortune. If he could 
once establish himself in business, in even the 
smallest way, he would be so industrious, 
so honest, and so cautious, that he could not 
fail of success. His mother, too, should share 
his prosperity. Whatever he desired for him- 
self, he desired for her far more and better. 
He had cast his lot with her, and no bribes 
could separate them. When first brought to 
his grandfather’ s, he had been made happy by 
the assurance that he could ^ ^ stay always ” ; 
now he realized that this must not be* 

Where are we going when I get well?” 
he asked, as his mother came to his side, and 
laid her thin hand upon his shoulder. 

“1 think we shall stay here for the 
present,” she replied. ‘‘You can help Ra- 
leigh about the farm, and I shall find some 
way of making myself useful. Why did you 
a.sk that question?” 

“Because I have been thinking about it. I 
am growing older every day, and I ouglit to 


WEALTH AND WIA"E. 


65 


get started in tlie business I am to follow. 
Yon must get the lawyers, or the judge, or 
somebody else — I don’t exactly know who — 
to give me all to you, so no one else will have 
any claims upon me. You’ll do that, won’t 
you, mother?” 

For answer, she kissed him silently ; but 
this did not satisfy him. ^‘You must,” he 
said earnestly. ‘‘And you must get a divorce 
from your husband. Mother! mother!” he 
cried, startled by the pallor of her face, “I 
wouldn’t say this, if I could help it ; but no 
one else would speak to you about it. You 
know my mother is a proud woman,” he 
added, with an effort at cheerfulness. 

“You are right, my boy,” was the mother’s 
response. “I am a proud woman, notwith- 
standing all I have endured. You are right, 
too, in the other matter. I will do as you 
wish. Grod forgive me, if I do wrong.” 

It was well that this decision should be 
made; and with Mrs. Warland, to decide 
was to act. In these days, Mabel Pease 
had come very near to her with the sweet 
womanly sympathy and strong, vigorous 
purpose wdiich characterized this young 
friend. Meeting Cousin Mabel in the hall 


66 


WEALTH Al^D WIIv'E. 


directly after her son had obtained from 
her the promise recorded above, she said, 
with some hesitation, find that I shall 
be obliged to burden some one with more 
of myself and my perplexities.’’ 

‘^Burden me,” was the quick reply. 
have a vast amount of unappropriated ener- 
gy, and shall be glad to make myself use- 
ful.” 

‘^But my burden is not a light one.” 

‘‘Then all the more do you need help to 
carry it. Trust me, and don’t hesitate to tell 
me if I can in any way give you assistance. 
Come to my room, and let us have a good talk 
in school-girl fashion. You shall sit in the 
large rocking-chair, and I will sit on a stool 
at your feet.” 

“ That would be reversing the proper order, 
Cousin Mabel. I should sit at your feet.” 

“We will not quan^el about that,” re- 
plied the true-hearted girl, throwing open the 
door of a large room which had been recently 
appropriated to her use. “ It is pleasant here. 
Just the place for a confidential talk. There 
are the rocking-chair and foot-stool waiting 
to be occupied. Don't think me heartless, 
because I talk cheerfully.” 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


67 


I don’t think so, dear. I am thankful that 
you can talk cheerfully. You are a comfort 
to us all. I don’ t know how father could bear 
his troubles at this time, were it not for the 
help you give him with your words and 
smiles. I am sometimes afraid that you will 
be sorry you came here this spring.” 

Sorry!” repeated Mabel. am more 
glad every day. I was tired of everything at 
Mr. Archer’s. I am sure I was made for a 
different life from what I lived there. Do you 
know that I sometimes wish I had only money 
enough to buy plain clothes, and pay the 
house-keeping bills of a pleasant little house, 
where I could live cozily and economically. 
Then I should have something to think of, 
and something to do. Before Aunt Martha 
died, I learned some of her ways of doing 
things, and I like them.” 

^^But the more money you have, the more 
good you can do,” said Mrs. AVarland ; so 
much interested in her companion, that for 
the moment she quite forgot herself. 

know that. Cousin Jane, and I hope to 
do some good. But the truth is, I have too 
many entanglements. Mrs. Archer has her 
plans for me ; Mr. Archer has plans for me : 


68 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


and I, Mabel Pease, am trying to form plans 
for myself. Now I liave tlirown off my own 
personal burden, and am ready to take an- 
other in its place. I shall be happy to assist 
you in any way which is possible to me. You 
must believe that, and also give me an oppor- 
tunity to prove it. I can give you money ; 
work for you; talk for you; or — ” 

The last is just what I wish you to do,” 
responded the elder lady hurriedly, interrupt- 
ing her friend. For the sake of my boy, I 
must have a divorce from my husband. I 
don’t know how it is to be managed, and it 
seems impossible for me to make the necessary 
enquiries. I shall be very grateful to you, if 
you will talk with Dr. Saunders, and ask him 
how I am to proceed. He has a brother who 
is a successful lawyer, and he could easily 
learn how such things are managed. I know 
nothing of the expense which must be incur- 
red ; but please tell the doctor for me, that 
whatever it is, I will pay it so soon as I can 
earn the money. I have never before wished 
to know how divorces are obtained. I con- 
sider them dreadful, and disgraceful ; but there 
are alternatives more dreadful, and more dis- 
graceful. The time has been when I thought 


WEALTH A]S^D WINE. 


69 


otherwise; and there are those who believe 
that a woman should endure all wrong and 
outrage, rather than claim a release from her 
marriage vows. If they are right, then God 
forgive me, for I must claim this release.” 


CHAPTER V. 


woman’s eesponsibility. 

LD Dr. Saunders and Ms son, Dr. 
George Saunders, were in close con- 
sultation ; when the former, seeing 
Mabel Pease walking rapidly to- 
wards the house, exclaimed, ‘^AVhat in the 
world sent that girl out at this time in the 
morning ? There must be something wrong at 
Mr. Bedlow’s. It can’t be that John is worse. 
He seemed a good deal excited yesterday, 
when he got engaged in talking ; but other- 
wise he was all right.” 

Mabel did not leave him long in doubt re- 
specting his patient. She had ridden Avith 
Raleigh to South Orchard, and then taken the 
shortest path, through a narrow strip of 
woodland which separated the farms of Mr. 
Bedlow and Dr. Saunders. 

There is no one sick,” she said after the 
fi]’st greetings. If you are busy, I can wait 

70 



WEALTH ATiD WIKE. 


71 


until you are at leisure. But I thought I 
would improve the opportunity to come early. 
I only wish to consult you in regard to some 
business.” 

Business, child! What do you know of 
business?” responded the doctor, smiling 
down into her face, and leading her to the 
family sitting-room. can give you ten or 
fifteen minutes to tell me about it.” 

Thank you. I think that will be suffi- 
cient,” Mabel answered. have come in 

behalf of Mrs. Warland. She wishes to ob- 
tain a divorce from her husband, and she 
desired me to ask you how she should pro- 
ceed. She knows nothing of what is to be 
done, except that she must in some way ap- 
peal to the law. She thought you might be 
able to tell her what to do, and she presumed 
upon your friendship.” 

“ She has a right to presume upon it,” was 
the quick response. ‘‘I will do anything for 
J ane Bedlow that I can do. If I ever pitied a 
woman, 1 pity her. Tell her from me that I 
will attend to the matter, and she shall have 
no annoyance from which I can save her. But 
there will be some. She must expect that. 
Both her father and her son have talked 


72 


WEALTH AND AVINE. 


with me about it, and I was only waiting for 
her to speak.” 

Yes, sir ; but she asked me to speak for 
her. I promised her that I would, and I wish 
I could bear all the annoyance for her. I 
don’t think I should mind it.” 

You would, if you were in her place, or in 
a similar place. Take warning from her fate. 
There are good men and true, worthy to be 
trusted with a woman’ s happiness ; but they 
are not among those who tarry long at the 
wine, and count their own self-indulgence the 
first object in life. Remember that, Avill 
you?” 

‘^Yes, sk, and thank you for the warn- 
ing.” 

Thanks are more than old folks generally 
get for their advice. But seeing' the dangers 
in your path, I was constrained to speak. 
Dram-drinking is the curse of the land ; and 
the moderate social drinker^ man or woman, 
is responsible for this curse. It’s likely that 
you’ve seen a good deal of wine-drinking in a 
social way.” 

‘^Yes, sir, I have.” 

‘^And perhaps drunk Avine yourself.” 

^^Yes, sir, but I shall never do it again.” 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


73 


Then there’s one yonng lady on the right 
side. Thank Grod for that ! Don’t let any one 
persuade you to go over to the enemy ; and 
don’t tolerate habits in a young man that you 
wouldn’t tolerate in yourself. Give your 
whole influence in favor of total abstinence. 
Are you willing to do that?” 

Yes, sir, at all times, and under all circum- 
stances,” was the emphatic reply to this ques- 
tion. ^^But I am detaining you, sir.” 

Detaining me ? ” laughingly said the doc- 
tor. I think I have detained you to listen to 
my sermon. Your errand furnished me so 
good a text, that I could not refrain from 
preaching. Then, too, George and I have been 
talking of this very matter of wine-drink- 
ing. He is more opposed to it, if possible, 
than I am. Have you ever seen my son 
George ? ” 

‘‘No, sir; but I have heard of him as be- 
ing a noble man, and a distinguished physi- 
cian.” 

“He is all that, and I am proud of him,” 
said the father. “He is devoted to his profes- 
sion, and if he isn’t a Christian, I don’t know 
who is. I want you to see him.” Hero the 
door of the room was thrown open, and a 


74 


WEALTH ATs^D WIIS'E. 


cheerful voice called, ^‘George, please to come 
here.” 

Somewhat amused at her position, as she 
could not fail to be, Mabel Pease yet met the 
stranger courteously. Only that morning 
Raleigh Bedlow had spoken of him, and her 
quick intuitions at once endorsed the praises 
to which she had listened. He was acquainted 
in the city where her guardian resided, so that 
conversation flowed freely, and but for her 
thoughtfulness, she might have trespassed too 
long upon valuable time. 

That’s a girl of a thousand,” said the old 
doctor, when Mabel had bade them good- 
morning. ^‘They say she is worth nearly a 
hundred thousand dollars ; perhaps quite 
that ; and she will soon have it in her own 
hands. Her father left her a good property, 
and her guardian has kept it so well invested 
that it has increased rapidly.” 

‘‘More’s the pity,” replied Dr. George 
Saunders. “ There are plenty of fortune-hun- 
ters on the look-out for an heiress, and if so be 
she is young and handsome, so much greater is 
her danger. Superior girls are often won by 
men whose only recommendations are a ready 
command of words, and a faultless style of 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


75 


dress. Mr. Arclier is a good, sensible man, as 
the world goes ; but liis wife is as frivolous and 
vain as a woman can well be. As I looked at 
Miss Pease, I wondered how the two could 
be happy under the same roof. But, father, 
if you wish to talk more with me about that 
case, you must do it this morning. I must 
stop to see mother on my way back. I am 
disappointed not to find her at home.” 

am sorry, but your Uncle Severus will be 
very glad to see you. He will think himself 
sure of getting well, if you prescribe for 
him.” 

The two men were soon busily engaged in 
discussing the various symptoms of disease, 
with reference to a case which had thus far 
resisted ordinary treatment ; so that before 
Mabel Pease reached South Orchard, they 
had quite forgotten the interruption of her 
visit. She had accomplished her mission with 
less of embarrassment than she had anticipat- 
ed, and yet her face was clouded. 

^AVhy, Cousin Mabel, were you sent away 
with a reproof?” asked Raleigh, looking up 
from his work, as she came towards him. 
^‘You look as though something wrong had 
happened.” 


76 


WEALTH AjS^D WI]N^E. 


I was not sent away witli a rej)roof. My 
visit was a very agreeable one,” she re- 
plied. 

‘^Tlien why do yon look so sober?” 

I have been thinking. I begin to feel that 
life is real, and should be earnest. But for all 
that, it need not be gloomy,” added the young 
girl with a smile. I was more than success- 
ful. I saw Dr. George Saunders, and talked 
with him.” 

Isn’t he grand?” exclaimed her com- 
panion. 

“That is just what he is,” was her response. 
“What a good, noble face he has. Such a 
face as never groAvs old. I Avonder Iioav your 
Aunt Jane could have preferred Hastings 
Warland to that man.” 

“I wonder too. But Dr. George Saunders 
was a poor student — though not so very poor, 
either. His father helped him all he could. 
But there were five other children, and George 
would take only his share. He had to Avork 
his way up. He couldn’t give his wife such a 
home as that Warland could ; and I suppose 
Aunt Jane didn’t really know any better than 
to do as she did. She AAns only tAAnnty years 
old AAdien she aatts married ; and everybody 


WEALTH AiS^D WINE. 


77 


says that Warlaiid was very fascinating ; 
tliongli to see him now, nobody wonld think 
he could ever have been so much as agree- 
able.” 

^^But your Aunt Jane loved him,” said 
Mabel. I am sure of that. She told me that 
she really idolized him at the time of their 
marriage, and she believed that her love was 
fully returned. I can’t understand such 
infatuation. It seems impossible that he 
could wholly conceal his true character ; and 
knowing what I do, I almost wonder that he 
should have chosen to marry her. She must 
have been very beautiful ; but she was not 
rich ; and men of his habits usually care for 
money.” 

Raleigh Bedlow was three years younger 
than his companion ; yet they were accustom- 
ed to talk of different subjects with the utmost 
freedom ; so that the present discussion was 
continued until a definite conclusion robbed it 
of its interest. 

There was something in the sterling honesty, 
and bold, decided opinions of this cousin 
which challenged Mabel’ s warmest admira- 
tion ; while he, in turn, regarded her as the 
embodiment of all womanly loveliness. She 


78 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


had come to his home, an elevating, refining 
infiiience ; giving a new impulse to every no- 
ble tendency. Meeting upon common ground ; 
claiming no superiority on the score of ac- 
quirements or possessions ; she was simply 
one of the family, to share the family life and 
contribute her measure to its happiness and 
improvement. She was interested in all which 
interested them, and encouraged Raleigh in 
every effort to make the farm more productive 
and profitable. 

Her visits to the sugar-camp were more to 
her than the pleasure of fashionable assem- 
blies. She knew the proceeds of each day’s 
work, and the amount of profits which could 
be reasonably expected for the season. Then, 
too, she loved nature ; and these visits afford- 
ed her rare opportunities for studying its 
changes. She watched the upspringing of 
tiny buds, and the unfolding of fragile ferns, 
where the waters of some bubbling spring 
kept the soil of an untilled garden warm and 
moist. She noted every new development of 
insect life, and marked the days with dis- 
coveries, which had for her a wondrous 
charm. 

Jenny had often said that Cousin Mabel’s 


WEALTH AiS'D WINE. 


79 


eyes were always wide open. This was true ; 
while it was also true that her example incit- 
ed others to watchfulness. Nor bird, nor bee, 
nor flower, escaped her notice ; and without 
recognition of the fact, those with whom she 
associated caught from her the habit of seizing 
each flash of beauty as it passed. 

This- morning she had scarce a thought for 
anything disconnected with Jane Waiiand ; 
and yet it seemed to her, that in some way 
her own life was linked with that of her friend. 
It could not be a mere chance which had 
thrown them thus together, and revealed to 
her so much of the heart history of a dis- 
appointed, despairing woman. As Raleigh 
glanced at her from time to time, he saw that 
she was still thinking seriously, and forbore 
to trouble her with questions. 

I must go home,’’ she said at length. 
ought to have gone before. Your Aunt Jane 
will be anxious to know the result of my 
mission. I was not ready to meet her until 
now. I shall tell your grandfather that you 
are having a good day. Grood-by.” 

If Winthrop Hayes had seen her, as she 
walked straight on to the old farm-house, 
with quick and vigorous step, he would 


80 


WEALTH AISTD WINE. 


liardly have said what he was at that very 
time saying to his annt. 

Mabel Pease must be bored to death 
with her country cousins. I have a vision 
of her, pale and disconsolate, sighing for 
the pleasures she has left behind. It would 
be an act of mercy for you to recall her 
from her seclusion. It was the strangest 
freak for her to leave as she did. She really 
needs a guardian who would assert his au- 
thority for her good. Do you know any 
cause for her abrupt departure from her dear 
live hundred friends ? asked the young man, 
as he lounged indolently in an easy-chair. 

‘^I only knoAv what she told me,” replied 
Mrs. Archer. She said she was tired of 
parties and flatteries, and longed for a 
breath of air with some vitality in it. That 
was her way of saying that she was dis- 
gusted with her manner of life here. I 
knew she was growing more and more dis- 
satisfied every day ; but I hoped some one 
would find a way to bind her with silken 
cords. As for Mr. Archer exercising any 
authority over her, he never did ; and it 
would be absurd for him to do so now.” 

‘‘She is of age soon, is she not?” 


WEALTH AND WI]SrE. 


81 


^^Yoii knov/ about tliat as well as I do, 
Wiiithrop ; and you know that I hoped the 
care of her property would be transferred 
from my husband to j^ou. You could not 
have a better wife than she would be. She 
is very energetic, and you need a Avife who 
has more energy than you generally mani- 
fest.” 

^^It must be that you are right,” replied 
the gentleman carelessly. Mabel Pease 
has attractions, both solid and brilliant ; 
and she has eccentricities also. She is 
fearfully old-fashioned in some of her ideas ; 
and she is very tenacious of these ideas.” 

These remarks were supplemented with a 
yaAvn ; but Mrs. Archer was not deceived by 
this affectation. After a little thought, she 
said, ^Mf you think Mabel is sure to be 
tired of country life, there is an excellent 
opportunity for you to shoAV your gallantry 
by escorting her back to the city.” 

might do that, but you see I am not 
in her neighborhood.” 

‘^It would be possible for you to reach 
her neighborhood. If you desire it, I Avill 
Avrite to her this morning, and offer your 
services as an escort. Shall I do this?” 


82 


WEALTH A^D WIJS'E. 


you please. I am at your service 
and liers.” 

The letter was written, and reached its 
destination the following evening, just as 
Mabel had seated herself quietly in her 
room with Mrs. Warland. 

^^Will you excuse me while I read this 
letter?” she asked, as it was placed in her 
hand. 

Certainly,” replied her companion. 

Don’t mind me at all. It rests me to be 
with you, but you must not let my pre- 
sence interfere with anything you wish to 
do.” 

“1 must reply to this letter at once,” said 
Mabel, in a tone which betrayed some annoy- 
ance. 

^^Do so, my dear, but I hope you are not 
going to leave us.” 

Not at present. Cousin Jane. Mrs. Archer 
urges me to return at once, but I am not 
inclined to martyrize myself in that way.” 

Does fashionable city life seem to you like 
martyrdom?” asked Mrs. Warland with a 
smile. 

3fy life in the city sometimes seems like 
that,” was the reply. ^^If I should accept 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


83 


this invitation, with the conditions annexed, I 
should be a martyr in a most inglorious cause. 
I shall not go to Mr. Archer’ s until the last of 
next month. Yet I must be civil in my reply 
to her very cordial letter.” 

“Cousin Mabel, if I had estimated country 
and city life as you do, I should not have 
been what I am now. I should have clung 
to this dear old home, and not allowed my- 
self to be dazzled by the glare of false lights, 
and the glitter of tinsel trappings.” 

“ That was not all which made the city seem 
to you so delightful.” 

“That was the charm at first, and the 
heart often goes with the fancy. I was a 
romantic girl, and fancied I had found my 
ideal.” 

“ Better sacrifice yourself to a fancied ideal, 
than to one for whom you have neither love 
nor respect.” 

“True, Mabel, but you must not sacrifice 
yourself in any way. There is work for you 
to do. It seems to me if I were in your j)lace, 
I could do a world of good.” 

“Tell me how. Cousin Jane. That is just 
what I wish to know,” quickly responded 
Mabel Pease, turning to look at her cousin. 


84 


WEALTH AiS^D AVIHE. 


wliose face was radiant with -unAA^onted ani- 
mation. 

When you have written your letter, then 
I will tell you what I have thought,’’ was the 
reply. 

A few fitly-chosen words sufficed to express 
the Avriter’ s thanks for all courtesy and kind- 
ness ; and also to assure Mrs. Archer that her 
return to the city could not be expected, until 
business demanded her presence. Moreover, 
she was accustomed to travelling alone, and 
there was no reason why she should not con- 
tinue to do so. 

‘‘JSTow, Cousin Jane, my task is accomplish- 
ed, and I wait for my reward,” she said as she 
sealed her note. I may as AA^ell tell you that 
I am puzzled to know what disposition I shall 
make of myself, Avhen I reach the mature age 
of twenty-one. That is not very old ; but 
since I came here this spring, I have been 
maturing fast. Besides, I see the Avorld 
and the manners of the world in a different 
light.” 

‘^It is not strange that you do, Mabel. 
You have seen a new phase of life ; a dark 
phase too. Pray God you may never knoAv 
hoAv dark. Perliaps you needed to learn some 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


85 


lesson, wliicli your experience here lias taught 
you.’’ 

know I did.” 

“And the lesson — 

“Has been learned, and will never be for- 
gotten. But how can I do a world of 
good ?” 

“What is the lesson you have learned ? ” 

“That wine-drinking is a sin and a shame. 
That it leads directly to drunkenness and pov- 
erty. Why, Cousin Jane, I believe it is the 
curse of the land.” 

“I know it is,” replied Mrs. Warland mtli 
great earnestness. “I know it is. 'No one need 
tell me that drinking wine is a safeguard 
against the immoderate use of coarser liquors. 
I know it is not so. The rich and fashionable 
are responsible for the drunkenness of this 
country. More than that, I believe that a 
large measure of the responsibility rests upon 
woman.” 

“I had not thought of that,” said Mabel 
musingly. 

“How many women, young or old, do you 
meet in society, who condemn the use of wine ? 
How many who do not, on some occasion, 
drink it themselves?” 


86 


WEALTH A^D AVINE. 


fear there are not many/’ was the reply 
to these questions. have often seen a 

young lady touch a glass to her own lips, and 
then offer it with a smile to some gentleman, 
who received it as a flattering mark of favor. 
I never did that. Cousin Jane. Not because I 
am any better than those who have done it, 
but because I had a general feeling that young 
mei\ are likely to drink enough without any 
such temptation.” 

Indeed they are. But did you never 
drink wine in company with gentlemen ? 
That is a direct question, and perhaps I 
should apologize for asking it.” 

‘^No, you should not,” answered Mabel. 

I have tasted wine many times, and sipped 
a little when I thought courtesy demanded it. 
My head rebelled against 'much indulgence ; 
but I never thought of it, as an act for whose 
moral consequences I should be accountable. 
I know you will wonder at my stupidity ; yet 
I must say, that until recently, I never thought 
of moderate drinking as leading to druiiKen- 
ness. I had no definite ideas in regard to it. 
I suppose it was because I never thought seri- 
ously of the subject anyway. It did not come 


WE ALT! [ AND WIN^E. 


87 


home to me, as one in which I was personally 
interested.” 

^ ‘ But yon were personally interested, Ma- 
bel. Every woman in the country is interest- 
ed. There are but very few families where 
dissipation and drunkenness have not fallen 
like a blight. You may not see it. People 
are in the habit of hiding the skeleton, but its 
presence is no less terrible. Cousin Mabel, 
you have beauty, and all the attractions of 
youth. You have money, too, and you can do 
what you please. I am not saying this to flat- 
ter you. You knew it all before I told you. 
But with all these gifts, God puts upon you a 
great responsibility. You can do good in a 
thousand ways which your own good sense 
and kind heart will suggest. But, in addition, 
you can be a temperance reformer, using your 
influence to further the cause of total absti- 
nence. You can help to make it popular.” 

In reply, Mabel Pease did not say, as many 
have^^idij am but one of the multitude. I 
can do nothing alone. The evil is so great, it 
is useless to attempt its suppression.” On the 
contrary, she said, will do what I can. 
That will be but little, compared with, what 
needs to be done ; but I will at least do my 


88 


WEALTH A A I) WINE. 


duty. Cousin Jane, do you tliink there are 
many women in tlie country wlio drink to 
excess? I don’t mean among the poorest and 
lowest, such as we sometimes see staggering 
through the streets ; but among people who 
consider themselves respectable.” 

‘^lam sorry to say that I think there are 
very many,” answered Mrs. Waiiand. ‘‘I 
have myself drunk wine to excess. I have 
been so intoxicated that I was hardly con- 
scious of what passed around me. Never but 
once. Never but once, and then the horror 
passed. I vowed to my God that never again 
would I taste the poison drink. From that 
time I have loathed it.” She might have 
added truthfullj^, ^^From that time I have 
loathed the presence of my husband.” 

She covered her face with her hands, as if to 
shut out some fearful sight. Yet still it rose 
before her. Brilliantly-lighted rooms ; the 
flashing of jewels, and the gleaming of white 
arms ; music, and the fragrance of flowers ; the 
subtle fumes of wine, and whispered words of 
passion she but half comprehended. 

From the crowd her husband pressed for- 
ward, and pleading his own indisposition as 
an excuse for their departure, led her from the 


WEALTH AiS"D WIXE. 


89 


room. A carriage was called, and slie reach- 
ed home in a state of stupid intoxication. 

Often had her husband returned to her in a 
like state, and as often had she received him 
without reproaches. In the first years of their 
marriage, she had tried in a gentle, loving way, 
to infiuence him ; yet never had he acknow- 
ledged that she had reason to feel herself in- 
jured by his conduct. 

But now Ms honor was sullied. His feelings 
were outraged. No man could forgive such 
conduct in a wife. He waited only until she 
could appreciate her condition, when, gazing 
at the beautiful woman he had lured from the 
simple habits of her childhood, he exhausted 
his rage in words which would pollute the 
ears of the vilest outcast. 

She heard it all in silence ; first with quiver- 
ing lips and dewy eyes ; then with eyes dry as 
stones, and lips from which white teeth press- 
ed the crimson blood. 

Up to that time, Jane Warland had loved 
her husband. Thenceforth, duty’s stern de- 
mands, rather than affection’s law, swayed her 
life. 


CHAPTER VL 


CONFESSION AND DIVOEOE. 

dreary winter evening, Mr. Bed- 
low, anxious for Ms daughter’s com- 
fort, sent Raleigh to visit her, and, 
if necessary, to remain through the 
night. Her husband had been away since 
early in the morning, and could not be expect- 
ed to return for many hours. 

am so glad you have come,” exclaimed 
John, as his cousin entered, bringing a well- 
filled basket. ‘‘Mother and I have been 
lonely. Hickory-nuts too. That was a kind 
thought in you.” 

“ That was grandfather’s thought. He said 
it was a good evening to crack nuts, roast 
apples, and drink cider ; only your mother 
don’t quite approve of cider.” 

“But 1 do,” replied John. “I wholly ap- 
prove of it. I have drunk it when it was 
sparkling as champagne.” 

“That is why I disapprove of it,” said Mrs. 

90 



WE.U.Tir AjN^D ayine. 


91 


Waiiaiid with a sigh. boys! I wish I 

could make you feel about such things as 
I do.’’ 

^^Why, Aunt Jane, do you think there is 
any danger of our becoming drunkards, be- 
cause we drink some cider once in a while?” 

don’t think there is any danger of your 
becoming a drunkard, Kaleigh. Your father 
was a consistent temperance man. But it is 
different with John. He must fight an in- 
herited appetite. No* one is really safe who 
drinks moderately.” 

^^But there are a great many people who 
drink moderately all their lives. You know 
that. Aunt Jane.” 

Yes, I do know it. But there are not so 
many moderate drinkers as are counted such. 
You don’t know their private life. You don’t 
live with them day after day, and see them 
when they are free from all restraint, except 
such as they impose upon themselves.” 

‘^You are right. Aunt Jane. You know a 
great deal more about it than I do ; and I 
don’t know what made me provoke you to an 
argument. I hate liquor-drinking as bad as 
you do ; and moderate or not, there is no need 
of it.” 


92 


WEALTH AND WIAHL 


So do I hate it,” added John. I should 
think I had reason to. But I don’t see why- 
mother need be so particular about cider. 
Grandfather always drinks it, and I don’t a 
bit doubt but what mother used to drink 
it herself.” 

did, and there was a time in my life 
when I drank wine and champagne.” 

^^And you didn’t get drunk either,” was 
urged in reply. 

^^Yes, I did,” she answered, the words dy- 
ing out in a wailing sob. Sit down here, and 
let me tell you all about it,” she added with 
great effort. shall never have courage to 
tell you, unless I do so to-night. Don’t hate 
me, boys. It was a terrible thing, but I be- 
lieve God has forgiven me.” 

‘^Hate you !” murmured her son, throwing 
his arms around her. ‘‘I couldn’t do that. 
But it don’t seem possible that my mo- 
ther — 

Here the boy laid his head upon his mo- 
ther’ s shoulder, and wept bitterly ; while 
Raleigh turned avfay to wipe the tears from 
his eyes. 

I must do myself justice,” at length said 
Mrs. Warland. cannot have you think 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


93 


worse of me than I deserve. It may not seem 
generous, but I am unwilling to bear more of 
blame than belongs to me.” 

‘‘Don’t, mother. Tell us all about it, and 
put the blame just where it belongs. I don’t 
doubt but what father was at the bottom 
of it.” 

“He was,” she replied softly. “Yet I 
ought to have had more principle. I began 
by yielding a little, and drinking because it 
was fashionable. Raleigh, shall you despise 
me after this?” 

“ ISTo, indeed. Aunt Jane. Why should I ? ” 
answered her nephew. 

Nuts were forgotten, and the rosy apples 
stood untasted, while this woman described 
with startling minuteness her gradual enslave- 
ment by the siren of the wine-cup. There 
were frequent pauses in the narrative ; but at 
length it was all told. The wind howled, the 
storm raged, and the fire burned low on the 
hearth ; yet this group within the cottage 
heeded neither wind, nor storm, nor increasing 
cold. 

Thus did Jane Warland make her first con- 
fession. To the second, only Mabel Pease lis- 
tened ; and with rare delicacy, the young lady 


94 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


offered neither question nor comment. She 
did not count her friend one whit the less 
worthy of esteem ; and the evening had not 
passed, before she found opportunity to say 
this without referring to what had transpired. 

Her own previous resolves were strength- 
ened. Now that she had been made to realize 
the terrible effects of fashionable dram-drink- 
ing, she wondered that she had not discovered 
them for herself. 

John Waiiand, too, had ample time to form 
his plans anew, and fortify himself against 
temptation. His mother would be free, and 
with her freedom, his own would be secured. 
Good Dr. Saunders would permit no unneces- 
sary delay in the business entrusted to him. 

When the showers of April had swept away 
the last vestiges of Avinter’ s snow, the cottage, 
which had been closed since the first of March, 
was reopened ; and it was known somewhat 
generally that Jane Warland would be glad 
of employment as dressmaker or plain seam- 
stress. 

Her relatives had objected to this; her 
father assuring her that the resources of the 
old farm were sufficient for all ; yet she Avas 
not deterred from her j)urpose. 


WEALTH AHB WI^^E. 


95 


have had my full share from the old 
farm,” she answered cheerfully. thank 

you all the same. But I have earned my own 
support under greater difficulties than I shall 
meet with here, and I cannot he dependent. 
I shall be almost happy, when I am fairly 
established in my business. There is work 
enough here to be done, and I think I am the 
one to do it.” 

Dr. Saunders commended her, adding, I 
know in one way it seems hard. But that 
is more than counterbalanced by what you 
will gain. I want to see the color come back 
to your cheeks, and the old light shine in 
your eyes. John is going to be strong enough 
to help Raleigh this summer, and everything 
promises well for you all. You must let an 
old man say his say, and I tell you you are 
better olt to-day, than you have been any time 
before, since you went to Mr. Beman’s to 
spend a year and learn city ways. That’s 
what I think.” 

‘‘1 think the same,” she answered. “My 
friends have done more for me than I had a 
right to expect ; and now I hope to do for 
myself.” 

“Your father’s house was always open to 


96 


WEALTH AHD WIJS'E. 


you. You should have come home sooner 
than you did.” 

Situated as I was, I never felt at liberty 
to do so. I was very proud, too, and I 
could bear some things among strangers, bet- 
ter than I could bear them here. Knowing 
that I could come whenever I thought best 
gave me strength to struggle on. I have 
much to be thankful for ; and not the least 
of my blessings are the two friends who al- 
ways speak to me encouragingly. You and 
Mabel Pease would have me believe that there 
is something left for me in life, after all I 
have suffered.” 

There is,” replied the doctor with empha- 
sis. ‘‘It 1 remember right — and I guess I do — 
you are hardly thirty-eight years old. There 
may be forty, fifty years of life before you ; 
and if you are as sensible a woman as you 
ought to be, you Avon’t feel it to be your duty 
to wear sack-cloth and ashes all that time, 
because you made a mistake when you were 
twenty. I’ m not making light of your troubles, 
child ; and I’m not making light of marriage- 
vows either. But what our Saviour alloAved 
must be right ; and when a woman has borne 
enough, and made up her mind that it’s not 


WEALTH AiS^H WINE. 


97 


her duty to bear anymore, there’s no reason 
why her conscience should accuse her of doing 
wrong, when she appeals to the law for the 
right to live in comfort and safety. I don’t 
know what would happen if all the incorri- 
gible drunkards in the country were deserted 
by their wives and children ; but I’ve thought 
sometimes I should like to see the experiment 
tried. If the tables were turned, and the ma- 
jority of drunkards were women^ instead of 
onen^ there wouldn’t be so much forbearance. 
I know that, and I wish there was less 
now.” 

‘^But, Dr. Saunders, if one of these drunk- 
ards was a member of your own family, I 
think you would feel that every possible 
means should be used to reclaim him; even 
though this involved a great sacrifice on the 
part of others. It has been proved that the 
lowest and most degraded may rise to a re- 
spectable position.” 

I know it,” said the old man with a shake 
of his head. But I was speaking of incorri- 
gible drunkards ; and then there is one consi- 
deration, which with me outweighs all others. 
The children of drunkards are born under the 
worst conditions ; and the sin of transmitting 


98 


WEALTH AND AVINE. 


to another generation the tendency to drunk- 
enness is a fearful one. Forgive me, Jane/’ 
added the speaker, interrupting himself. ^^In 
my earnestness, I forgot some things I ought 
to remember.” 

There is no need to ask my forgiveness,” 
she replied. ‘‘I think I know all you would 
say ; and I know, too, that the curse which 
rests upon her children is the hardest of all 
for a drunkard’s wife to bear. The mother 
of a drunkard’ s children is, of all women, the 
most to be pitied. I liaA^e but one, and it will 
break my heart if he goes Avrong.” 

‘‘I believe he will do right, and be a 
blessing to you,” quickly responded the 
doctor. ‘^This last trial has impressed him, 
as perhaps nothing else could. Then, too, 
Raleigh’ s companionship aauU do a great 
deal for him. That nepheAv of yours is a re- 
markable boy. He was always above the 
average of boys ; but since Mabel Pease came 
here, he has developed wonderfully.” 

All this Avas but preliminary to a conversa- 
tion, from which both Mrs. AVarland and 
Dr. Saunders would gladly have been excused. 
It Avas necessary to speak of the divorce then 
pending; and many of the visitor’s remarks 


WEALTH AND WIKE. 


99 


liad been made for tlie purpose of reassuring 
liis friend ; who even now sometimes reproach- 
ed herself for the decision she had made. 

I don’t think it will be necessary for me to 
trouble you again in this matter,” he said as 
he was about to leave. would have spared 
you this if I could. My wife is coming over 
to-morrow to see about some sewing she wants 
done. I told her she had better speak in sea- 
son.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY. 

HE last day of April Mabel Pease 
readied her guardian’s, and, to her 
surprise, found that a party had 
been arranged for the following 

evening. 

‘^Winthrop and I felt that your birthday 
should be Qelebrated,” said Mrs. Ardier. 
have engaged Mrs. Le Moille to have a dress 
made for you in season ; so there is nothing 
for you to do but select the material. I told 
her your selections were always quickly made, 
and she would have ample time. Everything 
has been arranged as we thought would please 
you. I hope you will enjoy meeting your 
friends.” 

‘‘I always enjoy meeting my friends,” an- 
swered Mabel ; adding directly with more of 
cordiality, ‘Mt was very kind in you to tiiinl^ 
of giving me a birthday party. I suppose it 

will be proper for me to appear in a new 
100 



WEALTH AND AVIXE. 


101 


dress, and I will take care that Mrs. Le Moille 
has as much time for her work as is possible 
under the circumstances.” 

This last was said a little wearily ; and 
later, Mrs. Archer told her nephew that she 
was afraid Mabel cared very little for the 
party. More than this Avas true. The very 
thought of it was a weariness. Yet the 
morning found her cordial, cheerful, and ani- 
mated. 

^^Winthrop ordered the flowers, and he is 
sure you Avill be pleased with them,” remark- 
ed the hostess. 

I have no doubt that I shall,” was the re- 
ply. ^^Mr. Hayes has admirable taste in the 
selection of flowers. He knoAvs how to blend 
both color and perfume in delightful combina- 
tions.” 

suppose business must be delayed 
until a more conA-enient season,” said Mr. 
Archer, Avhen he met his ward at an early 
dinner. 

“I suppose it must,” she replied Avith a 
smile. ^‘Pleasure takes the precedence.” 

“Yes, and I don’t object to it. But with 
the pleasure, I Avish to impose upon you a re- 
sponsibility. Some of our young men are in 


103 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


danger of drinking to excess, wlienever wine is 
placed before them ; and I wish yon to pre- 
vent their doing so this evening.” 

^^What would you have her do?” asked 
Mrs. Archer impatiently. 

Mabel will know what to do. Young la- 
dies can always find a way to manage such 
things when they choose to. For one, I am 
getting disgusted with the intemperate habits 
of our young men ; and if such scenes occur 
here, as at the last party I attended, I shall 
be both mortified and indignant.” 

‘‘1 saw nothing at that party but what was 
beautiful and pleasant,” remarked the lady, 
who regarded all which her husband had said 
as entirely out of place. 

That was because you were not behind the 
scenes,” he answered. ‘‘1 don’t know where 
our strong, staunch business men are to come 
from, unless there is some change in the ha- 
bits of the present generation.” 

“ They are coming from the ranks of teeto- 
talers,” said Mabel Pease. ‘‘If you will con- 
sent to my proposal, I will engage that no 
jT^oung man shall taste of wine this evening. 
Provide no wine, and I am sure that no one 
of the guests will bring it here.” 


WEALTH AND V/INE. 


103 


‘‘You are right, Mabel, and I don’t know 
but I shall be brought to such a stand. But 
I am not quite ready for it yet. I believe that 
men can drink moderately without making 
beasts of themselves.” 

“I suppose they can, but I am afraid there 
are comparatively few vdio do.” 

“For mercy’s sake, let us have no more of 
this,” exclaimed Mrs. Archer, rising from the 
table. “Mabel has strange notions enough 
now without any addition. Young men must 
be expected to indulge in some excesses. For 
my part, I never see any such dreadful things 
as you talk about.” 

The subject was dismissed for that occasion, 
but she in whose honor the evening’s enter- 
tainment was given did not dismiss it from 
her thoughts. It was observed that she re- 
fused to taste of wine ; and this she did in so 
conspicuous a manner that it could not fail to 
attract attention. Moreover, when asked by 
her admirers in regard to what seemed to them 
a mere caprice, she frankly avowed her teeto- 
tal principles. 

Advocated by her, the fanatical doctrine was 
shorn of half its terrors. Many a glass re- 
mained untasted, Mapy a brow was mantled 


104 


WEALTH AKD Wim^. 


with the blush of shame at memory of what 
had been. 

I want to thank you for what you have 
done this evening,” whispered a fair young 
girl, as the company was about dispersing. 
‘‘You have saved my brother for this once, 
and my father and mother will thank you in 
their hearts. I wish I was as brave as you 
are. Jason is always sorry when he grieves 
us, but he is not strong to resist temptation. 
You saved him this evening. Grood-by.” 

Jason Myers himself lingered longer than 
etiquette demanded, as he said, “You have 
made this a delightful evening to us all. I 
thank you.” 

Winthrop Hayes, quick to see the role 
which should be played, was so abstemious as 
to provoke much of raillery ; yet he was dis- 
satisfied with the whole affair. It had not 
been to him a delightful evening. With Mrs. 
Archer and himself this party had been con- 
sidered a grand stroke of policy ; but he knew 
that instead of furthering their purposes, it 
had only made them ipore difficult of attain- 
ment. 

Having reached his rooms, it occurred to 
him that he must- decide in regard to some 


WEALTH AAH) WINE. 


lOo 


business matters which demanded immediate 
attention. His principal creditor was clamor- 
ous for a settlement ; and unless assistance 
was received from some quarter, he would be 
obliged to sell the last piece of real estate 
upon which he had any claim. It was not a 
pleasant alternative. 

He had made a discovery, too, which did 
not add to his happiness. He loved Mabel 
Pease. She seemed to him the one woman in 
all the world for whose approval he cared. 
Egotist as he was, for a time this one fact 
outweighed all other considerations. In 
another mood, he might calculate how she 
could be induced to echo his own thoughts, 
and regulate her entire life to suit his plea- 
sure. Kot so now. He only thought of win- 
ning her for his bride. 

When morning dawned, his decision was 
made. Nothing could be gained by further 
delay, and he was resolved to know his fate. 
He went to his aunt’ s, and found Mabel alone. 
Her greeting was cordial. She had taken her 
first step in the work to which she had pledged 
herself, and the world looked bright to her. 
If Winthrop Hayes had thought to tell her of 
his love in set phrase and studied speech, his 


106 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


intentions were frustrated by lier very cor- 
diality. 

‘‘And you really love me ! ” slie exclaimed 
in reply to Ms impetuous words. 

For answer to this strange exclamation he 
could only repeat what he had before said. 

“I am sorry,” she responded gently. “I 
can never love you. Until this moment I have 
never believed that you loved me.” 

“How could you doubt it?” he asked. 

“Appearances are often deceitful,” she an- 
swered, with a frankness which quite surprised 
.herself. The words, so frequently heard from 
Grandfather Bedlow, came unbidden to her 
lips, and she had uttered them. “Pardon 
me,” she added gently. 

“You are pardoned,” he replied. “But is 
there no hope for me?” 

“ There is everything for you to hope,” said 
Mabel Pease with sudden animation. “I 
am not the woman to make you happy. I 
know that, and you will see the day when 
you will know it too. But there is everything 
for you to hope and expect in life.” 

“Except the one object which can make 
life desirable,” he exclaimed bitterly. “You 
mock me. Why should you?” 


WEALTH AiS^D 


107 


<< Why should I she repeated. I would 
not mock you. I do not mock you. I have 
but told you the truth. You have ability-to 
win ahigh position in the world. If I were in 
your place, I would achieve something worth 
living for.’’ 

But I am denied what I most desire. Ma- 
bel Pease, you are heartless. I did not come 
to you for — ” 

Dictation,” she said, completing the sen- 
tence. ^^Mr. Hayes, I know you will think 
me quite unlike all other young ladies ; but I 
assure you that I am not heartless. How 
could I be ? I am alone in the world, and I 
often crave love and sympathy which are 
denied me.” 

Mabel ! I would give you so much ; all 
that your heart could desire. Let me hope 
that I may some time win you.” 

^‘Yo, Mr. Hayes, that can never be,” was 
the firm reply. “It is worse than useless to 
prolong this conversation. I shall leave the 
city within a month, and when we meet again, 
I trust — ” Here she paused for a moment, 
and her visitor was about to bid her good- 
morning, when she exclaimed in a voice of 
passionate earnestness, ^‘Why don’t you 


108 


WEALTH AND WIKE. 


throw off your indolent, extravagant habits, 
and be the man you ought to be ? You are 
ruining yourself. You are squandering your 
property, and wasting your strength. I have 
but told you the truth,’’ she continued, as he 
looked at her in a wondering, incredulous 
way. ‘^Very likely it is not a proper thing 
for me to do. But if you were my brother, 
I should speak more plainly.” 

^‘If I cannot be more to you than a 
brother, I wish I was even so much as that,” 
said the young man, whose astonishment over- 
came his anger ; and who, now that his last 
hope had failed, was utterly despondent. For 
the time, his pride and arrogance were as 
though they had never been. Then, too, 
his companion so well understood him, that 
all attempts to conceal any part of the truth 
seemed a mere waste of effort. 

Three months before, Mabel Pease would 
have denied his suit, and dismissed him from 
her presence with but little thought of his 
future. Now, she longed to do him good ; to 
exert an influence which would rouse him to 
noble endeavor. 

It may be that the love he professed for 
her — the reality of which she could no longer 


AVEALTH AIS'D WmE. 


109 


doubt — liad mucli to do with this change in 
her feelings. Certain it is, that the scenes 
through Avhich she had passed, and the les- 
sons she had learned in Grrandfather BedloAv’s 
home, were not without their effect. 

In her presence was a man of good natural 
abilities, Avith a finished education, and a 
pleasing personal appearance. For A\"ant of 
energy, principle, and self-control, this man, 
so richly dowered, was in imminent danger of 
sinking to the lowest depths of poverty and 
degradation. Could he be saved? Was it 
possible so to rouse his ambition, and stir his 
long-dormant conscience, that he Avould make 
the necessary effort to stand in his place, hon- 
orable and useful? 

^^Mr. Hayes, if you Avould let me talk to 
you, as I should talk to a brother, or as it 
seems to me I should talk to a brother, I 
should be very glad to do so. Wait a mo- 
ment, please,” she continued. “I am quite 
sure I should say a great many things you 
v/ould not enjoy hearing.” 

Say them,” AA-as the reply. You liaA^e 
told me some plain truths, and I may as AA^ell 
hear all. I am a miserable, idle fellow, I 
know that better than you do, and I know, 


110 


WEALTH A^jy WIiS'E. 


too, that I am getting to be a poor man. I do 
believe I should do better, if — But I’ll not 
weary you vdth protestations. Only this, 
Mabel. Whatever motive I may have had for 
seeking your favor in the past, I beg of you to 
do me the justice to believe that I love you. 
In comparison with your own dear self, your 
fortune is nothing to me now.” 

I do believe it,” she answered softly; and 
yet she knew that had he gained his suit, and 
her fortune been placed in his hands, it would 
not have long sufficed to meet his extravagant 
demands. ‘‘But we will forget that,” she 
added. “ For the next half-hour, I wish you 
to imagine that I am your sister ; or, what 
would be better still, a friend, who would be 
glad to see you one of the grandest men in the 
country. I have a story I wish to tell you. I 
learned it while I was in the country, and it 
seems to me better than a sermon.” 

Assent was given, and Mabel Pease proceed- 
ed to narrate the history of Hastings Waiiand. 
At the close of her narration, she pronounced 
this name ; when her companion exclaimed : 
‘ ‘ I have seen that man. I am acquainted with 
some members of his family, and I have heard 
that his wife was very beautiful.” 


WEALTH AND WmE. 


Ill 


She must have been marvellously beauti- 
ful, before she had so much trouble and sorrow. 
The wife of a man who indulges in the immo- 
derate use of intoxicating drink soon learns 
what trouble is. She can know nothing of 
quiet, restful happiness. If the present seems 
prosperous, she knows there is danger in the 
future.” 

“Do you mean to say that the man, who is 
not a fanatical teetotaler, is in danger of be- 
coming such a brute as to destroy the hap- 
piness of his wife?” asked Winthrop Hayes 
excitedly. 

“I do mean that,” was the reply. “Know- 
ing what I now know, and feeling as I do, I 
wonder any woman dares trust such a 
man.” 

“You would not. Miss Pease.” 

“ I would not,” she answered. “As Aunt 
Martha used often to say, ‘ Men and women 
are none too good when they do their very 
best, and make the very most of the talents 
God has given them.’ I wish people would do 
their very best.” 

“I wish they would. Miss Pease, and I 

thank you for telling me the truth. Good- 
?> 


morning.^ 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A KEW BEGINNISTG. 

GRACE HILTON was in liis office, 
examining some documents pertain- 
ing to an important case wliicli liad 
been entrusted to his care, when the 
door was opened, and Winthrop Hayes ap- 
peared. 

“ Come in, and take a seat. Fine morning 
this,” said Mr. HUton, as he carefully folded 
the paper he had been reading. 

“Thank you for the invitation, though I 
doubt if it was given willingly,” replied the 
visitor. “Hard-working men, like you, have 
little time to bestow on such as I. But for 
all that, Hilton, here I am, and here I shall 
stay for a while, if you will allow me to do 
so. I shall interrupt your work, and you 
must make me pay for it. Don’t insist upon 
cash, though ; for, to tell the truth, I am 
getting too poor for that. I can do a Job of 

113 



WEALTH AKD WINE. 


113 


copying, and save your hiring it done. You 
don’t do your own copying, do you?” 

^^Yo, Hayes, I am obliged to have help. 
My sister copies for me. We have established 
a sort of partnership, and share the profits of 
our business. But it is so seldom that I see 
you, since we were in college together, that I 
must be very hard-pushed not to have time 
for a chat this morning. I am busy, but it 
will do me good to rest.” 

So you don’t want any help about copy- 
ing, or other office-work ? I am sorry for that. 
I know a poor fellow who needs work ; and I 
thought perhaps you would help him. He 
was in college with you, and was admitted to 
the bar about the same time you were. But 
he had a few thousands of dollars, and 
thought he could live at his ease. Besides 
that, he was lazy and extravagant. Had a 
fancy for choice wines, and the best cigars ; 
all of which cost money. You don’t know 
anything about such expenses. But you see 
I do, and they count up wonderfully. I 
know exactly how that poor fellow feels, now 
he is in debt, with no means of paying his 
debts ; unless he sells the last piece of real 
estate that he owns. It is a pity for him to 


114 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


do that. In five years, that piece of real estate 
will be worth five times what it is now. The 
poor fellow don’t seem to have any friend to 
help him ; so I thought I would start out this 
morning, and see if I could find some work 
for him.” 

All this was said in a half-mocking tone. 
Yet the speaker did not conceal the fact that 
there was a serious purpose underlying the 
affected carelessness. 

To whom do you refer?” asked his com- 
panion, looking him full in the face. 

^‘To Winthrop Hayes,” was the reply. 
^‘Perhaps you don’t remember him. But he 
remembers you ; and would gladly give the 
fortune he has squandered, had he followed 
your example.” 

‘^It was not necessary for him to do as I 
have done,” replied the hard-working lawyer. 
‘^But I know it would have been better for 
him to attend to study and business, rather 
than idle away his time, and spend his money 
for what has profited him nothing. He had 
every opportunity for taking a good position 
in the world ; and I sometimes half envied 
him for his advantages.” 

You don’t envy him now, Hilton.” 


WEALTH ANI) WIJS’E. 


115 


I certainly do not ; but there is enough 
left of him to make a first-rate lawyer, and 
an honorable man. To drop the third person, 
and talk straight to the purpose ; what is there 
in the background of your picture ? If you 
please to lift the veil, I shall be glad to look 
beyond it.” 

please to lift the veil; although you 
must have seen through its cobweb folds. I 
have just waked up to a realization of my 
foolish life, and I am anxious to make a new 
beginning somewhere. Moreover, I am a poor 
man, and necessity compels me io work. My 
sins have been set in order before me, and if 
there is the making of a man left in me, I 
shall be thankful to any one who will help 
me find it. I had no right to expect help 
from you. I know, better than you can tell 
me, that I have no claim upon you. But I 
thought perhaps — Here Winthrop Hayes, 
who prided himself upon saying the right 
thing nt the right time, paused, for want of 
words to express his thoughts. Yet not long 
after, he added: knew you were always 

ready to help the poor and miserable.” 

‘‘You are not poor, and you ought not to 
be miserable,” replied his companion. “If 


116 


WEALTH WINE, 


you feel that you have wasted your life up to 
the present time, only yourself can redeem the 
past ; and you cannot but know that, in order 
to do this, you must reform your habits. Are 
you ready for such a reform?” 

He to whom this question was addressed 
answered quickly: am ready.” 

^‘Do you know all that implies, Hayes?” 

I think I do,” was the response. I have 
counted the cost, Hilton. I have not slept for 
more than forty-eight hours ; and if there is a 
wretch on the face of the earth who despises 
himself, I am that wretch. One of two things 
I have resolved to do. I shall rid the world of 
my presence, or make myself fit to live in it. 
I prefer to do the latter.” 

Prefer!” repeated Horace Hilton some- 
what sternly. Your life is not your own. It 
was given to you by God ; and he will require 
it at your hands, when he sees that your work 
here is accomplished. You can retrieve the 
past if you will.” 

‘^Do you believe that?” was asked eager- 

ly- 

I know it, and what I can do to help you 
shall be gladly done. But I cannot carry 
your burden, or fight the battle with your 


WEALTH AIS^D WI^E. 


117 


appetite. You must do that with only God’s 
help, and you cannot do it without his help. 
You know I profess to be a Christian, Hayes ; 
and what religion I have is always present 
with me. So if you are with me, you must 
expect to be often reminded of your duty as 
one of God’s children. I have no sympathy 
with the flippant talk, in which so many men 
indulge : as though our relations to the Cre- 
ator of the universe were of small importance. 
I believe in God with my whole soul. I adore 
him as the Eternal King, and I love him as 
the Father of all who dwell upon the earth. 
Whatever courage I have exercised in days of 
darkness ; whatever success I have achieved in 
days of brightness ; I owe it all to my un- 
wavering, unfaltering trust in God. If this 
avowal of my faith seems to you quite unne- 
cessary — and I presume it does so seem — ^you 
may some time see cause to change your opi- 
nion. Now to business, unless you have some- 
thing further to say.” 

^‘What more can I say?” was the reply. 
^ ‘ Before to-morrow night, I must make a set- 
tlement with an importunate creditor ; and I 
have only the one piece of property I have de- 
scribed to you. If I could make myself use- 


118 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


fill, I would be glad to work for you at almost 
any price. I must come down in the world. I 
expect nothing else. But I cannot say that I 
am quite ready to go through the streets, beg- 
ging for work. You see I don’t look like that,” 
added Winthrop Hayes, glancing at his fash- 
ionable attire. I made up my mind to come 
to you ; and if I found you disposed to listen 
to me, I resolved to tell you my story. Yery 
likely, you wish I had gone somewhere else 
with my troubles, and left you to attend to 
your own business.” 

‘^On the contrary, I am glad you came 
here,” said Mr. Hilton. shall be glad to 
help you. I will give you a seat in my office 
as long as you use neither tobacco nor intoxi- 
cating drink of any kind. I cannot afford to 
hire work done I can find time to do myself. 
But my business is increasing ; and if you ac- 
cept my terms, I may be able to give you 
something to do. Not enough, by anj^ means, 
to support you in your present style of liv- 
ing.” 

shall change my style of living at once, 
and I accept your terms. But what proof 
have you that I shall keep my word?” was 
asked with something of the old manner. 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


119 


‘‘None whatever, Hayes. I shall take care 
not to injure myself in trying to assist you ; and 
if you are idle, when you should be at work, I 
shall work the harder ; while I shall have a 
vacant seat in my office.” 

This was said not unkindly. Yet the listen- 
er knew that he had to do with one who could 
not be easily deceived, or lightly turned from a 
well-considered purpose. For a moment, the 
two regarded each other in silence. 

Then, as if the thought of all which had 
been, which was, and which might be, surged 
through his heart, Winthrop Hayes arose, 
and extending his hand to meet that of a 
friend, said in a husky voice: “Hilton, I 
thank you for every word you have spoken 
to me.” 

Rushing from the office, he was in the street, 
hurrying past familiar scenes, and giving has- 
ty recognition to acquaintances and associates, 
until he entered the building of which he was 
owner. Never before had it seemed to him so 
well located, and in every way desirable. It 
occupied a corner lot ; was substantial, and 
commodious. Moreover, only the day before, 
a suggestion had been made to him in regard 
to some improvements, costing comparatively 


120 


WEALTH AXD WINE. 


little, wliicli would greatly increase its 
value. 

Some pleasant rooms in the third story had 
been recently vacated ; and it was to examine 
these rooms that he mounted the stairs. A 
hasty survey satisfied him as to their re- 
sources. They were thoroughly clean, and 
could easily be made habitable. 

From here, Mr. Hayes went directly to the 
luxuriously-furnished apartments he had so 
long considered his home. He gazed around 
like one in a dream. As he had said, for 
more than forty-eight hours he had not slept. 
During the fourteen hours preceding his in- 
terview with Horace Hilton, his doors had 
been locked, while he confronted his past 
life. 

One moment, he despised himself for having 
allowed Mabel Pease to speak to him as she 
had done ; meanwhile, angry with her for 
having taken advantage of the opportunity he 
had given. Then, his whole heart went out to 
her in passionate yearning for a return of the 
love which still held its sway. 

He wished she was poor ; so poor, that she 
must have assistance, or die. How gladly he 
would shield her from every sorrow ; giving 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


121 


of liis own life even, that hers might be 
filled with light and happiness. He was fain 
to believe that, without her, the future could 
offer no good thing ; that all honors would be 
worthless, and all triumphs empty. 

At length pride came to the rescue. He 
might not win this woman’ s love ; yet he 
might be worthy of it. He might, at least, 
command her esteem and confidence. More 
than this ; he might win the respect of all true 
men and women. This was much. 

But the gain involved a fearful struggle. 
What he had been in the past he must not be 
in the future. What he had not been in the 
past he must be in the future. The work of 
years was to be undone. The chains of habit 
must be unbound. Death could hardly be 
more dreadful than all this riving and sunder- 
ing of strongly-welded links. Every force of 
mind and body would be taxed to the utmost ; 
and these forces had never been laid under 
tribute for such a purpose. 

If his old classmate had failed him — and 
there was more than a possibility of this fail- 
ure— he would then consider what further 
should be done. Fortunately, there was no 
necessity for this consideration. He had only 


122 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


to prepare himself for the new life which 
opened before him. 

He counted his money in hand, and smiled 
bitterly, to find that it amounted to less than 
ten dollars ; yet only a few days before, he 
had been paid hundreds of dollars for rent. 
He called an auctioneer, and bargained for 
the sale of his furniture ; retaining only such 
articles as seemed to him indispensable. 

He visited his importunate creditor ; made a 
plain statement of facts, and obtained an ex- 
tension of time for the payment of his debt. 
Before night, he and his had disappeared 
from the old quarters. 

A family which had long been among his 
tenants assisted him in his arrangements for 
housekeeping. He had decided that he could 
not even afford to board. He must be content 
with plain fare, and plain surroundings. He 
had never done things by halves. He would 
not do them thus now. He could prepare his 
own coffee, and Mrs. Maitland would cook 
whatever he desired. 

He had been in a delirium of excitement, 
unconscious of fatigue; but when the day 
closed, he threw himself into a chair, utterly 
exhausted. He needed rest and sleep. His 


WEALTH AXD WINE. 


123 


appetite for stimulants craved indulgence. 
Had wine been placed before him, lie might 
have bartered all for the poisoned draught. 
Like others, he had often asserted that any 
man worthy of the name could relinquish 
any habit when this seemed desirable. But 
he found to his cost that while this was true, 
the sacrifice involved was greater than he had 
anticipated. 

He had told the motlier of the family from 
whom he had asked assistance, and upon 
whom he would depend for needed service, 
that he was turning over a new leaf, and com- 
mencing a reform in his habits. Thus he was 
fairly committed, while gossin was forestalled. 

Compared with many others, he was a gene- 
rous landlord ; and although this was the re- 
sult of a careless improvidence, rather than 
any true generosity, his tenants were benefit- 
ed. Grateful for substantial favors, Mrs. 
Maitland, to whom reference has been made, 
was glad of an opportunity to manifest her 
gratitude. She prepared a dainty, well-served 
supper, with coJGfee quite equal to that to 
which Winthrop Hayes had been accustomed. 

Thank you. I had forgotten that I must 
have supper,” he said, as she placed it upon 


124 


WEALTH WINE. 


the table before him. half an hour I 

shall have done.’’ 

Can I do anything more for you ?” asked 
this humble friend, when she came in at the 
expiration of the time which had been men- 
tioned. 

JSTothing, thank you. Only please have 
my breakfast in season,” he replied. I have 
no orders to give, beyond what I told you this 
afternoon. I cannot afford to live extrava- 
gantly.” 

But I’m sure you can live comfortably,” 
responded Mrs. Maitland. ^^It’s not much 
that’s needed for that, if you know how to 
make the most of money.” 

I have that to learn. One thing I have 
already learned ; and that is, I have secured 
the services of an excellent cook. The supper 
you brought me was perfect.” 

He did not care to prolong this conversation, 
and directly he was left alone. At an early 
hour he lay down to sleep ; even then impa- 
tient for the morning, which dawned bright 
with sunshine. 

Horace Hilton had not been in his office ten 
minutes, when Winthrop Hayes appeared, 
looking worn and haggard. ‘^Hoav are 


WEALTH ATsD WII^^^E. 


125 


you?” was asked with a cordial grasp of 
the hand. 

Well, and ready to work,” was the reply. 

‘‘You don’t look quite up to work, Hayes.” 

Perhaps not. The fact is, taking account 
of such stock as mine is exhausting business. 
But according to terms of agreement, I have a 
right to a seat in your office to-day. Have 
you anything for me to do ?” 

“ I have enough to keep you employed for 
one day at least. I counted on your help, 
and business came in wonderfully after you 
were here.” Saying this, Mr. Hilton gave a 
package of papers to his companion, and ex- 
plained what he wished to have done. 


CHAPTER IX. 

\ 

LIVIl^G m A GAEEET. 

RS. ARCHER was anxious in regard 
to her nephew. She had not seen 
him since the night of the party. 
Indeed, she had not so much as 
heard from him, beyond the meagre report 
made by Mabel Pease. At first, she was in- 
clined to hold this young lady responsible for 
his absence ; but as nothing occurred to con- 
firm her suspicions, she gladly dismissed 
them. 

Mr. Archer, I wish you would go round to 
Win thr op’s rooms, and see if he is sick,” she 
said on the third day at dinner. 

‘^I was there this morning,” was the re- 

ply- 

‘^And what account did he give of him- 
self?” 

None whatever. I did not see him. He 
has left those rooms, and I understood, after- 
126 



WEALTH AKD WIIS’E. 


127 


wards, that he was living somewhere in the 
third storjT- of his own house.” 

‘‘For mercy’s sake ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Arch- 
er with uplifted hands. “What can have 
possessed him to do such a thing ? He had 
delightful rooms ; elegantly furnished to suit 
his own fastidious tastes. He must have lost 
his senses.” 

“It looks more to me as though he had 
found his senses,” said the gentleman. “ One 
of our clerks told me all I know about it. I 
am going round to see him this evening. It 
has been a busy day, or I should have gone 
before now. I have known for some time that 
Winthrop would be obliged to retrench large- 
ly. He has run through most of his pro- 
perty.” 

Warning looks and gestures were entirely 
lost upon the speaker ; who proceeded in the 
same strain, until the extravagance and dissi- 
pation of Winthrop Hayes had been plainly 
stated. 

“I don’t believe one-half you have said,” 
then remarked the lady, whose nephew was 
under consideration. “I don’t doubt it all 
seems true to you ; and by the way you some- 
times talk, you must consider hundreds of 


128 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


young men in tliis city on tlie very verge of 
ruin.” 

‘ ^ There liundreds of such young men,” 
said Mr. Archer decidedly. ^Mf I had boys 
looking to me for an example, not another drop 
of wine would ever pass my lips.” 

So?neiody Timy have boys looking to you 
for an example,” now remarked Mabel Pease, 
who up to this time had been silent. The 
evening of the party, Minnie Myers thanked 
me for refusing to drink wine, and so saving 
her brother for that one evening. She said 
Jason was not strong enough to resist tempta- 
tion ; and of course he is tempted, when wine 
is placed before him.” 

So he is, Mabel, and the man who tempts 
another to sin is guilty. That is the logical 
conclusion which you omitted.” 

‘^Yes, sir, it is.” 

^AVell, Mabel, I wonder what absurd idea 
will find lodgment in your brain next. I 
thought its capacity for such tenants was ex- 
hausted long ago.” 

‘^Oh! no, indeed,” replied Mabel, laughing 
merrily, although she knew that her hostess 
was seriously displeased. “The older I grow, 
and the more I know of the Avorld, the more 


WEALTH AND WIl^E. 


129 


ideas I must have ; and it is not to be expect- 
ed that they will all seem reasonable to other 
people. I am not sure they will seem reason- 
able to myself.” 

‘^Well, Mabel, you are the strangest girl! 
Ifc is well you are not poor, and dependent. 
Society will excuse any peculiarity in an 
heiress ; and your friends can excuse it in 
you.” 

Mrs. Archer’ s regard for the future prompt- 
ed this conciliatory remark ; but it was easy 
to see that she would find it difficult to excuse 
any peculiarity which should conflict with her 
plans. She observed that her husband did 
not drink wine as usual, and this annoyed her. 
Altogether, it was not a thoroughly satisfied 
group which gathered around the well-spread 
table. 

Dinner ended, Mr. Archer lost no time in 
carrying into effect his resolution to find Win- 
throp Hayes. The young gentleman was just 
sitting down to his solitary repast, when a 
rap on the door of his upper room demanded 
attention. 

‘‘Mr. Archer!” he exclaimed in a tone of 
surprise. 

“I know I am unexpected ; andji may be 


130 


WEALTH AT^D WINE. 


unwelcome,” was the reply to this saluta- 
tion. 

^^You are certainly unexpected. But, on 
the whole, I am glad to see you ; though, to 
tell the truth, I would as soon your visit had 
been delayed for an hour. I have been hard 
at work all day, and somewhere have found 
an appetite for dinner.” 

^^Hard at work! What do you mean?” 
asked the visitor, gazing earnestly at the hag- 
gard face of his companion. 

‘^For once, I mean Avhat I say. I have 
been hard at work all day, in Horace Hilton’s 
office, except the time I spent with him at 
lunch.” 

^^But you look more fit to be on the bed, 
than at work.” 

‘^Perhaps so. But the poor must work. 
You may remember that you told me, several 
weeks ago, it was time to turn over a new leaf. 
Well, I am turning over that leaf . But pray 
be seated. I would invite you to dine with 
me, if my accommodations were on a suffi- 
ciently extended scale.” 

I have dined, thank you, but I will not de- 
tain you from your dinner. I have some busi - 
ness to attend to in this part of the city ; and 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


131 


while you are eating I will attend to that. I 
think it may require about an hour.” 

An hour passed, and Mr. Archer returned. 
Having seated himself comfortably, he said : 
‘^Now, Winthrop, if you are disposed to tell 
me how and why all this change was brought 
about, I shall be glad to hear. I remember 
having a conversation with you in regard to 
your prospects ; and I have known for a long 
time that it would be necessary for you to re- 
trench in your style of living. But I never 
expected anything like this. How came Hil- 
ton to think of hunting you up?” 

“He didn’t think of it. I hunted him up, 
and asked him to give me work.” 

Thus Winthrop Hayes answered ; and then, 
with manly frankness, related something of 
his experience during the days he had not 
seen this friend. 

“And you are in downright earnest,” re- 
marked his companion, as he paused for 
criticism or comment. 

“I am,” was the reply. “ It is now or never 
with me. Everything or nothing. I have 
burned my ships, and the enemy is before me. 
Hilton will stand my friend, and he is a host 
in himself. But I must fight my own battles. 


132 


WEALTH AXD WIIS^E. 


I have taken no pledges ; but when I forfeit 
the terms of our agreement, I shall leave the 
oiSce, and make an end of myself.” 

And you are to abstain entirely from the 
use of tobacco, and all kinds of liquor.” 

^‘That is the understanding, and — Mr. Ar- 
cher, do you think it would be a hard thing 
for you to give up your wine and cigars ? ’ ’ 
presume it would cost me some self-de- 
nial to give them up. I know I could do it, 
though, if I believed that my best good de- 
manded it. I would do it at any cost. I 
would never barter my manhood for such 
paltry things as liquor and tobacco.” 

There are hosts of men doing that every 
year. Rich men, and poor men ; old men, 
and young men. I am quoting from the say- 
ings of Horace Hilton, Esq., who is doing his 
best to induce me to endorse the assertion.” 

And is there a prospect that he will suc- 
ceed ? ” 

There is a possibility of such an event. I 
am making an experiment as well as he. We 
may both fail.” 

This was said earnestly, almost sadly ; and 
with no less of earnestness did Mr. Archer 
respond: ^‘You must not fail. There is no 


WEALTH AND WH]S"E, 


133 


need of such a calamity. Don’t hesitate to 
call upon me, if I can help you. I will do 
anything for you which is in my power to do. 
Your aunt will consider you half insane ; but 
when you have fought the battle, and come 
home with the spoils, she will be the proudest 
of all to welcome you. As for Mabel, you 
have taken the surest way to gain her favor. 
She has come back to us a very apostle of 
total abstinence. I am not sure but she 
preached to you. Did she?” 

^‘Yes, sir, she did; and the sermon was a 
pointed one from text to conclusion. Now I 
have told the whole story of my attempted 
reform, so far as I have gone. I am not in 
the habit of making personal confessions; 
but at present I am ignoring all previous 
habits.” 

I did not intend to force your confidence. 
But you may trust me to guard the secrets of 
the confessional,” replied Mr. Archer. Then, 
rising to go, he extended his hand, and said 
with much emotion, Winthrop Hayes, I 
have always been interested in you since I 
first saw you. To-day I respect you as I 
never respected you before.” 

Mrs. Archer waited anxiously for her hus- 


134 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


band’s return ; and no sooner liad lie entered 
the house, than she hastened to meet him. 
Question succeeded question ; the replies elic- 
iting exclamations of astonishment, and some- 
times of disgust. 

never would have believed it of Win- 
throp,” said his aunt, when she comprehend- 
ed the full extent of his offence. How could 
he do such an unheard-of thing? Mabel, 
don’t you think it is scandalous?” 

On the contrary, as the school-girls used 
to say, I think it is perfectly magnificent.” 

I might have known you would say some- 
thing of that kind,” rejoined the lady, whose 
ideas of propriety had been so scandalized. 
‘‘I must repeat that you are the strangest girl 
I have ever known. I shall certainly remon- 
strate with Winthrop, and endeavor to bring 
him to his senses. When is he coming 
here ? ” 

^^He did not tell me,” replied Mr. Archer. 
^^He is very busy, and seems inclined to at- 
tend faithfully to his business.” 

^^Then how am I to see him ? I am sure I 
never can visit him in that garret.” 

‘Won would not find him in a garret, wife. 
His rooms are pleasant, and comfortably fur- 


WEALTH AXD WIXE. 


135 


nislied. He lias retained liis books and liis 
finest pictures, and, wliat will seem best to 
Mabel, there is no smell of wine or to- 
bacco.” 

^^That is best of all,” replied the young 
lady. ^^If our friend continues as he has 
commenced, in five years from this time 
Mrs. Archer will have reason to be proud of 
her nephew, as a successful lawyer and most 
honorable man.” 

Mrs. Archer bowed her acknowledgments ; 
yet she was by no means comforted or concili- 
ated. She could pardon follies and excesses ; 
could find an excuse for many moral delin- 
quencies and irregularities ; but to set at de- 
fiance the rules of society was an unpardon- 
able sin. It was no exaggeration when she 
said that she was shocked. 

The next morning Winthrop Hayes received 
from her a characteristic note, abounding in 
exclamations and interrogations. There is 
no reply,” he said to the servant in waiting; 
who, knowing his previous idle habits, won- 
dered at the appliances of work with which he 
was surrounded. 

Mrs. Archer was even more surprised than 
before. Here was a case of obstinacy for 


136 


WEALTH AXD WIXE. 


which she was wholly unprepared. Too proud 
to consult with others, she again appealed to 
her husband. 

What can be done ? ” she asked. 

There is no need of doing anything,” he 
replied. “ Winthrop Hayes never needed ad- 
vice and assistance so little as now. He has 
started right ; and if he keeps on as he has 
begun, he will show himself a man. You can’t 
wish to have him go back to his old habits 
and his old quarters.” 

do wish just that,” answered the lady 
quickly. ‘‘He was always a gentleman, and 
his rooms were delightful.” 

“While his habits were shameful and sin- 
ful. You know that as well as I do, call 
them what names you will. The only wonder 
is that there was enough of manliness left in 
him to attempt a reform.” 

“ He could have reformed without doing as 
he has ; though I never believed his habits 
were very bad.” 

“You must have known that they were far 
from good. To put the matter plain — ^what 
would you think of Mabel, if her moral char- 
acter were no better than his? Would you 
tolerate her under your roof, if she drank 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


187 


wine nntil she was in a state of absolute in- 
toxication? ril not insult her bj^ carrying 
rny comparison further.’’ 

I hope not,” said Mrs. Archer, interrupt- 
ing her husband. She is a young lady ; and 
we expect a young lady to — to — ” The gen- 
tleman looked steadily at his wife, until, at 
last, she abandoned this incomplete sentence, 
and, starting anew, exclaimed, Nobody ex- 
pects a man to be as good as a woman any- 
way,” 

‘^More’s the pity. But there is One who 
demands it, and has a right to expect it,” he 
responded gravely. 

‘^Who?” 

‘^The Giver of the Ten Commandments.” 

For mercy's sake ! are you going to preach 
a sermon ?” 

feel quite inclined to do so.” 

Then I beg of you to call Mabel, and ex- 
cuse me. My nerves are in no state to bear 
such an infliction. W inthrop’ s conduct dis- 
tresses me, and you give me no comfort. If I 
could see him, I believe I could influence him ; 
but I never will go to that garret. I wish I 
knew whether Mabel has anything to do with 
tliis freak of his. If I thought she had, I 


138 


WEALTH AND WlNl^.. 


could never forgive her. If he had only mar- 
ried her, he might have — ” 

Spent her fortune and made her miserable. 
That is what would have resulted from such a 
marriage. I know you set your heart upon 
it.’’ 

And you have opposed it,” remarked the 
lady bitterly. 

‘‘It has never been necessary for me to 
oppose it. Mabel is a sensible girl.” 

This was most unkind of all. Mrs. Archer 
was wholly disheartened. Despairing of sym- 
pathy, she resolved upon silence in regard 
to her nephew. Only one consolation re- 
mained to her. It might be that the conduct 
she condemned would be the means of effect- 
ing the marriage she so earnestly desired. 

A month had passed, when she heard a 
familiar step, and directly a gentleman entered 
the room in which she was sitting. “AVin- 
throp Hayes!” she exclaimed. 

“The very same. Am I welcome?” 

“AVelcome or not, I am glad to see you. 
Give an account of yourself. What spirit has 
possessed you the last four weeks?” 

“The spirit of reform,” he replied. 

“How could you do as you have done, 


WEALTH AKD WmE. 


139 


Wiiitlirop? You know liow dear you have 
been to me since your mother’s death, and 
how much I have expected from you.” 

The tears which filled her eyes touched 
the heart of her companion. Under all her 
worldliness, her devotion to fashion, and her 
frivolity, there was a sincere affection for 
her sister’s son. 

think I appreciate your love,” he re- 
sponded gently. 

^^Then why have you ignored my existence 
for the last month?” she asked. 

Because it seemed to me best. I had 
decided upon a course of action from which 
I knew you would try to dissuade me ; and 
I was not sure enough of myself, to risk an 
interview with you.” 

^^You knew I would never countenance 
such insane proceedings. Of course you 
knew it. Winthrop, I could excuse almost 
anything else. Do you expect to live in a 
garret, and still be recognized in society?” 

‘^To tell the truth, I care very little 
about society just now. I am more anxious 
to make my way as a lawyer than to shine 
as a man of fashion.” 

‘‘But you might attend to your profes- 


140 


WEALTH A]S"D WIKE. 


sion, without making such a spectacle of 
yourself.” . 

‘^1 might, if I had begun in season. But 
as I didn’t, there was no other way for me 
than to do as I have done. Nothing would 
tempt me to go back. So please let us talk 
no more about it.” 

At this moment Mr. Archer came in, and 
gave to the young man a right hearty wel- 
come ; adding, intended to go round to 
see you this evening, and I am glad to be 
saved the trouble.” 

Mabel, who still remained in the city, was 
last to meet him ; and even to the most ob- 
servant eyes, there was no betrayal of em- 
barrassment. 

Winthrop Hayes no longer alfected the 
listless indifference of one who claims to re- 
gard the world as a stage, whose actors are 
neither responsible nor accountable. He was 
animated and truthfully earnest. His man- 
ners had never been more courteous, or his 
conversation more entertaining. Moreover, he 
was faultlessly dressed ; and if he lived in 
a garret, as his aunt was pleased to term the 
upper apartments he now occupied, he bore 
no resemblance to such dwellers in general. 


WEALTH AKD WINE. 


141 


There was no wine at dinner, neither was 
any allusion made to its absence. The 
hostess seemed ill at ease ; but beyond this, 
there was nothing to mark the changed re- 
lations of those who sat at her table. The 
gentlemen, having matters of business to 
discuss, retired to the library ; and at an 
early hour, Mr. Hayes took his departure. 

‘^Well, Mabel, how were you pleased 
with our nephew?’’ asked Mr. Archer the 
next morning. 

thought him very agreeable,” was the 
reply, made in the same light tone used by 
the questioner. 

^‘So did I. It is too early to speak with 
authority ; but if I am not mistaken, he is 
bound to rise in the world. He has the 
right companion in Hilton.” 

^‘Who is Hilton?” enquired Mrs. Archer. 

‘^A young man who was in college with 
Winthrop, and who was admitted to the bar 
at the same time. He was a good student, 
and he has been a hard worker in his pro- 
fession.” 

never heard Winthrop speak of him.” 

Probably not. They have seen very lit- 
tle of each other the last live years.” 


142 


WEALTH AXD WINE. 


‘^Tlien they were not in the same set.’’ 

To Hilton’s credit, they were not. 
He has been better employed, than in idling 
about with a set of dissipated, good-for-no- 
thing fellows.” 

do believe, Mr. Archer, you grow more 
and more severe every day of your life.” 

know I do, wife. There’s enough hap- 
pening every day to make me so. Only 
yesterday, I heard a man, who has buried 
three sons, say that he was thankful they 
were taken from the world before they 
learned habits of evil.” 

‘^That must have been a weak-minded 
man.” 

‘^JSTo, he is not ; or if he is, many are lean- 
ing upon a broken reed. I thought he made 
a strange expression for a father ; but an hour 
after I heard it, I understood why it was. 
He had just received news of the death of a 
young cousin, a boy at school, who was shot 
by a companion. Both had been drinking 
champagne ; and getting into a dispute, 
ended it with a pistol.” 

^^For mercy’s sake! don’t tell me such 
things 1 ” exclaimed Mrs. Archer. ^MIow can 
you bear to think of them?” 


WEALTH AjN^D WIjSTE. 


143 


‘‘I wci forced to think of them, and of their 
cause. If we could banish intoxicating drink 
from our land, there would be a heaven upon 
earth.” 

‘^It might be done,” now remarked Mabel 
Pease. ^Mt only needs the united action of 
all good men and women.” 

What have women to do about it? I do 
hope, Mabel, that you’re not going to join the 
strong-minded women, and make yourself — I 
beg pardon, but I must say it — ridiculous.” 

hope not to make myself ridiculous,” 
was the quiet replj^-. 

Then what do you intend to do ? I really 
believe that you, and Mr. Archer, and Win- 
throp are all linked together.” 

‘Mn a good cause,” added the gentleman. 
^^If all women were like Mabel, there would 
be a sudden reform in the manners of men. 
Women make the rules of society, and they 
are responsible for the drinking customs of 
society. If every woman used her influence 
in favor of total abstinence, it would soon 
be so popular that few men would have the 
hardihood to drink ever so moderately.” 

^‘Perhaps you intend to join the ranks of 
the fanatics?” said Mrs. Archer, striving hard 


144 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


to maintain the repose of manner upon which 
she prided herself. 

‘‘I do intend it, wife. I am ashamed to be 
outdone by Winthrop Hayes; and I am too 
much interested in his welfare not to give him 
the support of my influence. Should you 
have thought any better of him, or of me, if 
we had drunk wine at dinner yesterday? ” 
consider the matter of too small conse- 
quence to be discussed,” replied the lady 
coldly. hope Winthrop will not utterly 
ruin his prospects for life; but if he does, 
the sin will not lie at my door.” 


CHAPTER X. 


A STEEET SINGEE. 

RS. MAITLAND heard a noise, 
as of some one falling down the 
stairs ; and hastening to learn 
the cause, found the motionless 
form of a girl, who seemed to be not more 
than ten or twelve years of age. Calling to 
Mr. Hayes, she stooped to raise the child 
in her arms. 

“Drunk, and I thought she was dead!” 
said the woman with an expression of dis- 
gust. “A girl too. What’s to be done 
with her? She don’t belong here.” 

“Then how came she here, Mrs. Mait- 
land?” 

“That’s more than I know, sir. I never 
set eyes on her before. Hadn’t you better 
call a policeman to take her to the station? 
I don’t think she’s hurt. She must been 
stumbling round here, and I thought she 

1^5 



146 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


fell down-stairs. She’s one of them foreign- 
ers, by her looks.” 

^^She is an Italian,” replied Mr. Hayes. 
^^How that the light falls on her face, I re- 
cognize it. She goes about with an old man. 
He grinds a hand-organ, and she sings. 
She has a sweet voice.” 

‘‘That may be, sir. But she’s nothing to 
us. Whatever will I do with her ? If 
there’s anybody belonging to her, they’ll 
find her at the station.” 

“ Can’t you take her to your rooms, Mrs. 
Maitland ? She never seemed to me like 
other children who sing in the street. I al- 
ways pitied her. If you will take charge 
of her for the night, you shall be well paid 
for your trouble. If she belonged to you 
or me, we shouldn’t want her sent to the 
station.” 

“That’s true, sir; but such kind is differ- 
ent from us. I don’t want pay for doing my 
duty, til 1 Iforget what you’ve done for me.” 

The next morning Mrs. Maitland made 
a report of her efforts in behalf of the child 
thus thrown upon her care. 

“Tell me all about her,” said Winthrop 
Hayes. 


WEALTH AND WIND. 


147 


‘^That’s not mucli, sir. You’d think 
she’d been half starved, she’s that poor. 
She Jnst come to in the water, and then she 
was dead sick. It must been the liquor, 
and she not used to it. It may be, sir, that 
you’ll understand her; but we can’t make 
out only one word, and that’s ^dead.’” 

Perhaps the old man is dead. Poor 
child ! ” 

^‘You may well say that. A stone heart 
would pitied her when I put her in the 
bed ; and she cried without making a sound, 
till she went to sleep.” 

‘^Did you give her something to eat?” 

^^Yes, sir, a little. She was too hungry 
to have all she wanted. When she wakes 
up. I’ll feed her. Never you fear for that, 
Mr. Hayes.” 

^^And then keep her through the day. I 
will make some enquiries, and see what can 
be learned about her.” 

It was in the square, opposite his former 
rooms, that he had seen the old man and 
the child, whose sweet voice and beautiful 
face attracted his attention. Often he would 
beckon to her to come under his window ; 
and then throw down whatever coins first 


148 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


came to his hand. Remembering this, he 
visited the square. 

There was the same organ, whose familiar 
tones he could not fail to recognize. But 
in place of the well-bred, gentle old man, 
there was a villanous-looking Italian, whose 
flashing black eyes and nervous movements 
revealed his character. Mr. Hayes accosted 
him, asking for the old man. He feigned 
not to understand ; but the workings of his 
evil face betrayed him. The question was 
repeated ; and again he muttered under his 
breath. 

A policeman near by was more communica- 
tive, “1 remember them,” he said. ^^They 
were different from the rest of their tribe. 
Guess you’ve changed your quarters, han’t 
you?” 

Yes, changed the first of May,” answered 
Winthrop Hayes civilly. 

^AVell, I thought so. The old man han’t 
been round here for two or three weeks, nor 
the girl either. She was a beauty ; and she 
had a way of singing that made me think 
of the birds. Guess they missed you. I’ve 
seen them watch what used to be your win- 
dows, as though they exj)ected something 


WEALTH AXD WINE. 


149 


tliey didn’t get. The last time the old man 
was here, I remember of thinking he looked 
paler than general ; but I see so many things, 
they’re apt to crowd one another out of my 
mind.” 

There’s a villanous wretch with the old 
man’s organ.” 

Yes, I keep my eye on him, and now he 
keeps his eye on us. He could murder any- 
body that stood in his way, or else his looks 
don’t keep tally with what’s inside. I wish 
I knew something about the old man and the 
girl. I hope she an’t in the power of that 
villain.” 

She is not,” was the quick response ; and 
then Mr. Hayes explained the reason of his 
coming to the square. 

It needed only this to secure the co-opera- 
tion of the officer. He would discover where 
the old man had found shelter ; and he would 
know, too, about the fellow who had taken 
his place. 

Meanwhile, the chUd was fast winning her 
way to Mrs. Maitland’s heart. Despite the 
poverty in which she must have lived, she was 
cleanly and dainty in her habits. Her know- 
ledge of English was so limited that she could 


150 


WEALTH AND AVINE. 


give no intelligent account of herself ; yet, by 
signs and broken words, she begged not to be 
sent away ; manifesting the utmost terror at 
the possibility of such an event. When as- 
sured that she might remain, she expressed her 
gratitude with true southern warmth. When 
left to herself, tears would fill her eyes, and 
a look of anguish overspread her face ; yet she 
gave no voice to her grief. 

During the day Horace Hilton heard of this 
child, and proposed that his sister should 
visit her, with a friend who had been much 
with Italians, and could speak their language. 

‘^What do you intend to do with her?” 
he asked. 

don’t know,” was the reply. have 
only thought of the present and the immedi- 
ate future. If she has any friends, they must 
be found. Officer White may make some dis- 
coveries which will throw light upon her 
path.” 

This officer, stimulated by the fee which had 
been placed in his hands, lost no time in 
despatching a faithful deputy to the quarter 
where the old man was most likely to be 
known. A long search was made ; one after 
another was interrogated ; and still no tidings. 


WEALTH AND WIiS'E. 


151 


At last a woman was found whose whole 
appearance contradicted her assertions of ig- 
norance. Subsequent developments proved 
also that she was really interested in the 
child, and this, with the promise of a reward, 
induced her to speak truthfully. She often 
interrupted her account, to make sure that 
she was not overheard ; and the full meaning 
of what she said was not always understood ; 
yet enough was learned to answer the purpose 
of the enquirer. 

The old man was dead ; and his grand- 
daughter, to whom his death was wholly un- 
expected, refused to be comforted. No one 
knew that she had any relative in America, or 
elsewhere. Her grandfather was not like most 
of his people who come to this country. He 
might have been better off some time, and he 
was a Protestant. He was very careful of 
Tessa ; never allowing her to be away from 
him ; and though they lived under the eaves, 
their bit of a room was always cle^n and 
tidy. 

The organ had belonged to the old man. 
The fellow who now had it in his possession 
had no right to it. He had offered to take 
care of Tessa, if she would sing for him, Bu(5 


152 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


slie had refused to do this, and he was terri- 
bly angry. ^^He was bad, all bad,” the 
Avoman said. Tessa had escaped from the 
house, and no one knew where she had 
gone. 

This was reported to Winthrop Hayes, and 
corroborated by the child ; who, overjoyed at 
finding one who could understand her, poured 
out the story of her griefs. 

Again she begged not to be sent away. She 
would do anything, and bear anything, if not 
obliged to go away The day she was found 
in the hall, she had been so hungry that she 
came out from her hiding-place, and asked a 
girl to give her something to eat- But instead 
of food, she was offered some ‘^bad drink,” 
which made her sick. She remembered look- 
ing up a long flight of stairs, and thinking she 
should be safe, if she could reach the top. 
Then all was blank, until a bath had revived 
her. 

•^Tell her she shall be taken care of,” said 
Jessie Hilton to the friend who acted as inter- 
preter. 

There are charitable institutions Avhere 
she would be received,” said this friend in 
reply. 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


153 


know there are, but I liope there is 
something better for her. Do assure her of 
protection.’’ 

Tessa Gavazzi was ready to worship the 
beautiful ladies who came to her as angels of 
mercy ; while they, in turn, were ready to 
vouch for her purity and truthfulness. 

Mrs. Maitland, who had a family dependent 
upon her, was yet willing to keep the child 
for a small compensation. Mr. Hilton and his 
sister volunteered to aid in meeting this ex- 
pense ; while Winthrop Hayes was most gen- 
erous of all. 

He lacked the grand benevolence of heart 
which is capable of great sacrifices ; yet the 
sight of suffering always moved him to kind- 
ness. Then, too, Tessa was beautiful ; and, 
moreover, she remembered him gratefully. 

Through the efforts of Officer White, she re- 
ceived the old organ and a few other articles 
to which she attached great value, as having 
belonged to her grandfather. The Bible had 
been concealed in a straw mattress, where it 
served as a pillow for the dying man, who 
had trusted its promises through a long and 
eventful life. 

It did not require long for Tessa to make 


154 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


friends with all who dwelt under the same 
roof with her. AVhere her beauty failed to 
accomplish this, her sweet voice and gentle 
manners won what had been withholden. 

‘‘Her musical talent must be cultivated. 
It will make her fortune,” remarked Jessie 
Hilton one evening, after a call at Mrs. 
Maitland’s. “She is in the wrong place.” 

“It seems to me that she is in the right 
place,” replied Mr. Hilton, who had listened 
to a long description of the visit which had 
so much interested his sister. “Tessa has 
everything to learn ; and it is more important 
that she should be a good, true woman, than 
that she should be a prima donna. It Avill be 
time to consider that when she is older.” 

“I know that, Horace. But I never see 
her without wishing I could take her home.” 

“Where is home?” asked the gentleman, 
with a smile which brought blushes to his 
sister’s cheeks. “It is fortunate for me that 
I am not entirely dependent upon you for 
help in my profession.” 

“I suppose it is, Horace. But you know 
I told you that I would abide by your Judg- 
ment.” 

“After everything was settled ; and my in- 


WEALTH AiSTD WIHE. 


155 


terference would have been sure to make for 
me two lifelong enemies. But I’ll not tease 
you, sister mine. Hugh Waters is a noble 
fellow ; one I shall be willing to call brother. 
His plans interfere with mine. It’s the way 
of the world, and I must submit. To return 
to your Italian 'protege. It will be best to 
leave her where she is until circumstances 
demand a change. I think that matter can be 
trusted to Mr. Hayes.” 

‘“^Of all the world he seems least fitted for 
the guardian of such a child, Horace. I sup- 
130se, however, he has a right to claim the 
position.” 

Had Winthrop Hayes heard this, he would 
have been sure to endorse Miss Hilton’ s 
opinion of his unfitness ; while a cynical smile 
would probably have given emphasis to his 
acknowledgment. 

He sometimes fancied himself losing his own 
identity. He was not the same he had 
been. His old associates had sought him out ; 
then, wondering at what they saw and heard, 
left him to his own devices. His aunt had 
relinquished all hope of seeing him reinstated 
in his old place in society. 

It may be that Horace Hilton was surprised 


156 


WEALTH AND YvHNE. 


when each day there came to his office a man 
who worked industriously at the dullest of all 
labor. He had not dared to expect this. 
He was conscious of a feeling of relief at th.e 
sight of his companion, whose morning greet- 
ing had never failed. 

June roses were blooming as he said, 

Hayes, when shall you want to take a vaca- 
tion 

‘^Not this year,” was the reply. have 
had the vacations of a lifetime in advance. 
I have neither money to spend nor time to 
waste.” 

‘^But you will need rest.” 

‘^When have you rested, Hilton?” 

‘^Oh ! sometimes for a day or two. But I 
am used to hard work. I was brought up to 
it.” 

‘^And I am getting used to it. Are you 
satisfied with me, Hilton?” A shadow of 
scorn fiitted over the pale face ; and there was 
a half-stified bitterness in the voice of the 
speaker. 

‘‘I am more than satisfied,” was Horace 
Hilton’ s reply. ^^Are you not satisfied with 
yourself?” 

could not do better. But it has been a 


WEALTH AHD WINE. 


157 


hard fight, and not yet ended. I am living 
like a Jew, and working like a slave. That is 
one side of the shield.” 

^^And the other?” 

^‘May be better seen by you than me. 
I paid a creditor five hundred dollars yes- 
terday.” 

“Then you have gained five hundred dol- 
lars.” 

“Yes, I suppose so.” 

“It was worth working for, Hayes.” 

“Yes, Hilton, it was. Don’t mind my 
moods. I am having the blues to-day. Do 
you think I shall ever make a second-rate 
lawyer?” 

“I hope not. Second-rate is poor rate ; and 
in your case there is no need of it. Hard 
work and total abstinence will carry you 
higher than that. If you don’t care for a 
vacation, I think I will take one of a week 
some time this summer, and leave you to man- 
age affairs here in the office. Perhaps I ought 
to ask you if you are satisfied with your 
position.” 

“More satisfied than I should be anywhere 
else. I can’t say that I enjoy total abstinence 
and hard work. I wouldn’t have believed I 


158 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


was such a slave to appetite and indolence 
as I find I have been. It is not a fiattering 
estimate of one’s self.” 

Horace Hilton pitied his companion, al- 
though he would not have presumed to give 
expression to his feelings. He could not even 
extend a helping hand. Here, was where no 
human help would avail. It did not seem best 
to prolong the conversation, and presently 
both were engaged in consulting references to 
decide a point of law. 

In the evening Winthrop Hayes was quite 
too restless to remain in his room, and, not 
caring to go elsewhere, went to his aunt’s. 
She was suffering with a headache, so that he 
did not see her ; but Mr. Archer welcomed him 
most cordially. 

^^How goes the world with you?” asked 
this gentleman. 

^‘As well as I deserve,” was replied. 

^^And that, I think, is very well just now, 
Winthrop. I am getting proud of you, and 
I am glad you came round this evening. 
Mabel has gone, and the house seems lonely.” 
thought she was to leave in May.” 

‘‘That was her intention. But there was 
business to be attended to ; and we hardly 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


159 


realized liow fast time was passing. I liope 
we shall have her back before winter.” 

^^Her admirers and friends will all hope so ; 
I with others. Have you made a trial of ab- 
stinence yet?” 

^^Yes.” 

Banished cigars with the wine?” 

Yes. Made a clean sweep ; so there’s not 
a smell of forbidden things in the house.” 

‘‘And do you enjoy the change?” 

“Can’t say that I do. But I believe it is 
the right thing, though I don’t quite seethe 
need of my giving up cigars. A cigar once 
in a while wouldn’t hurt me.” 

“Neither would a glass of wine.” 

“I don’t think it would, Winthrop.” 

“You can speak for yourself decidedly, 
Mr. Archer. An occasional glass of wine will 
never injure such a man as you are. The 
trouble is that very feAv men are like you. 
The majority of men will drink more than one 
glass.” 

“That is true, Winthrop. Many men, too, 
make a business of dissipation. You remem- 
ber I have told you before that unless a man 
can drink very moderately, he ought not to 
drink at all. I know that I am sure of my- 


160 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


self as any one can be ; yet I think best not 
to drink at all. You think best not to drink 
at all, Winthrop ? ” 

“I do. I shall try total abstinence lor a 
year, and then calculate the results.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE CHOICE. 

HEX Mabel Pease found lierself again 
at Mr. Bedlow’s, it seemed strange 
to lier that she had remained so 
long away. The air was laden with 
the perfume of flowers and the song of birds. 
The richest verdure covered hills and valleys. 
All nature rejoiced, as the sunlight flooded 
the earth and waked each living thing to 
gladness. 

There is nothing more to be desired, now 
you have come,” said Raleigh Bedlow, as he 
stood by his cousin, watching the fading sun- 
set. ^^Aunt Jane was almost happy when I 
told her you were here.” 

wish she could be quite happy.” 
wish so too. But I suppose she must 
think of that wicked man who was once her 
husband. I know John thinks of him.” 

Is John as strong as he was last winter ? ” 

Not yet ; though the doctor says he will 



161 


162 


WEALTH WINE. 


be. He begins to help me some. But farm- 
ing isn’t his work. He wants to be a mer- 
chant. Last week he had a letter from one of 
his uncles, who offered to adopt him, and give 
him a good start in the world.” 

‘^Will John accept the offer?” 

^^Not he. He says he belongs to his 
mother, and he shall stay with her, if he 
has to live on a crust of bread.” 

There is no danger of that.” 

^‘Not a bit of it. The old farm is going 
to make good profits this year ; and then 
Annt Jane will earn lots of money for 
herself. Everybody comes to her to have 
their dresses fitted and bonnets trimmed.” 

In saying this, Raleigh did not so much 
exaggerate. People were curious to see Mrs. 
Waiiand, and so readily found an excuse 
for visiting her. There was much of kind- 
ness, too, mingled with this feeling. Mr. 
Bedlow’s family had always been respected, 
and now, in the trial which had come to them, 
they received the sympathy of their neigh- 
bors. 

Mrs. Warland was cordial, and ready to 
receive suggestions in regard to her work ; 
but any attempt to intrude upon her private 


WEALTH AND WIND. 


1C3 


griefs was repelled with dignity. Even with 
her father, who visited her with the regular- 
ity of the sun, she never referred to her 
married life. 

thankful youVe come to us again,'' 
the old man said to Mabel Pease the morn- 
ing after her arrival. ‘^You’ll do more for 
J ane than any of the rest of us can. I don't 
feel quite easy about John. He's a good 
boy, but he an’t like Raleigh. It's likely 
he’s got some notions like his father, and 
he don't want to work on a farm. He 
don't say anything about it, but I can see 
how he feels. He'd rather go into a store ; 
and his uncles are trying to get him away 
from his mother." 

“But he will never leave his mother. He 
loves her too well for that." 

“I know he says so, and I've no doubt 
he means it. He's had a hard time lately, 
and it's made him think. But I'm afraid 
of what's coming. The Waiiands won’t be 
likely to give up sending for him. They 
must have seen or heard from his father, 
though they don't say so ; and that's the 
way they know where to write to John. 
He is the only boy in the family, and they 


164 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


ai'e anxious to have him to themselves. 
I wish you’d talk with him.” 

will,” was responded cheerfully; and 
before the freshness of the morning had 
passed, she went to visit Jane Warland. 

Affectionate greetings were followed by 
many interested enquiries from both hostess 
and guest. 

^‘How pleasant and cozy you look here. 
I didn’t know this little cottage had such 
capabilities,” remarked the latter. 

think it is pleasant,” was the reply, 
always liked the old house. Ealeigh and 
John have made some improvements this 
spring. Ealeigh has his father’s gift for doing 
all kinds of work. I wish John was more 
like him.” 

think John is very well in his own 
character. I know that Ealeigh considers 
him superior in many things. There is a 
place for him, and he will find it in the right 
time.” 

‘‘I hope so. But the Warlands are deter- 
mined to take him from me ; and I have been 
so often deceived and disappointed that I 
hardly dare feel sure of anything. I presume 
father has told you. I can’t talk with him 


WEALTH AND WIND, 


165 


about it, but it is a relief to speak of it to 
you.’’ 

^^Tlien do so,” replied Mabel. ^^But don’t 
feel anxious. Aunt Martha used to say that 
half our trouble was borrowed, and the other 
half doubled by trying to live in the future. 
You are sure of the present. Leave the 
future Avith God.” 

It was not necessary to seek an opportunity 
for talking with John Warland in regard to 
his father’s relatives. Within a week he re- 
ceived another letter from his uncle, and, hav- 
ing taken it from the office himself, wished to 
consult some one before submitting it to his 
mother. 

‘^What shall I say?” he asked when the 
letter had been read by his cousin. 

^ AVhat do you wish to say ? ” was asked in 
reply. 

‘^That I will not leave my mother. That 
my father has no control over me or claims 
upon me. Uncle John thinks he can buy me 
from my father, or something of that kind. 
He don’t know about the divorce. Mother 
didn’t want me to tell him. But you see 
there’ll be letters coming all the time, unless 
T do tell him. I thought you’d know Avhat I 


166 


WEALTH AKD WIKE. 


ought to do,” added John with the utmost 
sincerity and confidence. 

Would you like to go to your uncle’s?” 

^'Not to leave my mother,” was the quick 
reply. don’t think I’d -go there to live 
anyway,” he continued after a short silence. 
‘^But it’s beautiful there, and I used to be 
very fond of my cousins. Uncle John lives as 
I can remember we used to live ; only he is 
richer than ever father was. Then there is 
Aunt Ermengarde, who lives with him. She 
is the richest of all. You see there is a 
message from her in this letter.” 

And you might be rich, if you would go. 
Aunt Ermengarde might make you her heir.” 

This was said to test the boy, and it effected 
its purpose. His face flushed and his eyes 
flashed. But only for a moment, when he 
answered frankly, Cousin Mabel, I should 
like to live in. such a house as Uncle John 
does. I should like money; but I want to 
make it for myself. Two months ago it 
seemed to me that I should be perfectly 
happy, if I could stay here, and never feel 
afraid of father again. But I can’t stay here 
always. I must go somewhere, where I can 
support myself, and my mother too.” 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


167 


Are you willing to stay liere for a year 
asked Mabel. 

Of course I am. Don’t tliink me tlie most 
unreasonable boy in the world, because I can’ t 
feel just as other boys do. Before we came 
here, I used to lie awake nights sometimes, 
calculating how I could earn ten cents the next 
day ; and I guess that is the reason I feel so 
old.” 

Perhaps it is,” was replied tenderly. 
don’t think you unreasonable ; but I do think 
that the sooner you show your mother this let- 
ter, the better it will be for you both. If you 
have cast in your lot with hers — ” 

^ ^ My lot was always with hers, and always 
will be,” exclaimed the boy impetuously. 

My father’s relatives, with all their money, 
aren’t half so good as my mother’s. I don’t 
believe there’s a AVaiiand in the world that 
can compare with Grrandfather Bedlow ; and 
as for Raleigh, there is only me to stand be- 
side him.” 

Mrs. Warland no longer objected to having 
her divorce from her husband made known to 
his friends. She knew they would be fearful- 
ly angry, and blame her unsparingly. Aunt 
Ermengarde, whose pride of family held every 


168 


WEALTH AND WHS'S. 


other sentiment and emotion in abeyance, 
would be most severe in her condemnation of 
the disgraceful act. Her riches made her an 
oracle ; and, once offended, she was never 
known to forgive. 

John lost no time in announcing his position 
and determination in a manly, courteous way ; 
also expressing his gratitude for the kindness 
he could not accept. 

One more letter closed the correspondence. 
He to whom it was addressed was formally 
disowned, and commanded never to presume 
upon the friendship of any one bearing his 
name. They will come to me before I shall 
go to them,” he remarked, as he laid the let- 
ter upon the table by which his mother was 
sitting. 

She read it without making any comments, 
save by the mute appeal which could be seen 
in her eyes ; and to which her son responded 
by a caress. 

There had been no waiting of summer days 
for this final decision ; no idling on the part 
of him whose welfare was thus considered. 
The boy was constantly gaining strength and 
courage ; applying himself to work with cheer- 
ful energy. Dr. Saunders had a watchful eye 


Yv^EALTII AND WIKE. 


169 


upon him ; speaking now and then an approv- 
ing word ; and sometimes cautioning him 
against too lavish an outlay of strength. He 
was ambitious to keep pace with Raleigh, Avho 
seemed never to tire or grow weary. 

Yet from each day some time was devoted 
to reading and recreation ; so relieving the 
tedium of work, which under other circum- 
stances might become mere drudgery. How 
this was effected perhaps only Mabel Pease 
could tell. Certain it is that she seemed the 
animating spirit of the house. AVhen there 
came a week of comparative leisure, she invit- 
ed Jenny, Raleigh, and John to go to the sea- 
side with her ; she paying all expenses, both 
of the journey and the preparations. 

Some objections were made to these condi- 
tions ; but they were at length accepted with 
the invitation, and there was not a party of 
travellers that summer who more enjoyed 
their journey. Mabel had no reason to blush 
for her companions. Their faces and hands 
were browned by exposure to the sun ; but 
their manners were unexceptionable. 

As none of them cared to meet the fash- 
ionable crowd, a quiet boarding-place had 
been secured in a retired spot ; where bold, 


170 


WEALTH AXH WIT^E. 


rocky bluffs alternated with level stretches 
of sandy beach ; thus giving to the land- 
scape a peculiarly wild and picturesque 
charm. Here some new phase of beauty or 
of grandeur was revealed with every passing 
hour. Then, too, turning from more magni- 
ficent exhibitions of nature’s wonders, there 
were crannies and pools of water to be 
explored. 

The week was all too short for seeing and 
hearing. Yet in their long walks they made 
the acquaintance of some fishermen, who 
were more than willing to talk of the perils 
of the sea, as these had been encountered 
just outside the rocks, towards which they 
pointed with many an ominous gesture. 
Thrilling adventures and hair-breadth es- 
capes were related with an eloquence from 
which no rudeness of language could detract. 

But our party were not the only visitors 
to this wild retreat. There were others 
listening to the same music of the waves ; 
and noting the same play of light and 
shade. Men and women, tired of work and 
the struggle for daily bread, had stolen a 
few days for rest ; and, leaving care behind 
them, come here to be refreshed. 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


171 


The morning Mabel Pease and her cousins 
had intended to leave, a new arrival was 
expected to take possession of the rooms 
thus to be vacated. The previous day a 
storm had prevented an excursion which 
promised rare pleasure ; and although the 
disappointment was partly compensated by 
its cause, it seemed desirable to carry out 
the original plan. After some consultation, 
Mabel decided to remain ; trusting to the 
good-nature of the expected party to excuse 
a temporary want of accommodations. 
will be surety for them on that score,’' 
said an elderly man. know Hilton well 
enough to know he will never complain 
without cause. All sensible people can 
make the best of things ; and only sensible 
people would come here any way. If they 
get here early, as they ought to, we can 
invite them to go with us, and that will 
settle the whole matter.” 

The party arrived. The situation was ex- 
plained, and accepted without a murmur. 
Introductions were given ; followed by cor- 
dial invitations to join the excursionists, 
which invitations were cordially welcomed. 


172 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


They were hardly strangers when they met. 
When they parted, they were friends. 

Mabel Pease was not long in discovering 
that the Mr. Hilton whom she fonnd so 
agreeable was the lawyer in whose office 
Winthrop Hayes was employed ; while he 
knew, when her name was first mentioned, 
that she was Mr. Archer’s ward. His sister 
and her fiance^ with a young cousin, had 
accompanied him ; all intent upon making 
the most of every enjoyment which came 
in their way. 

wish they had come sooner, or else 
we could stay longer,’’ whispered Jenny 
Bedlow to her brother. 

‘^But we have had our vacation, and 
must go back to work,” w^s the reply. 

know that, Raleigh, and I guess I 
should like to see all the folks at home. 
But if I were Cousin Mabel, I’d just stay 
ever so long.” 

Cousin Mabel did not take this view of 
the case. She was free to do as she pleased, 
and she pleased to return to Mr. Bedlow’ s. 

Not much had happened during their ab- 
sence ; yet they were eager to hear every 
detail of the home life. Aunt Jane had 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


173 


abandoned lier cottage for the time, and 
Grandfather Bedlow had assumed the care 
of the farm. Everything had prospered ; 
and there was not a regret to mar the 
pleasure of their holiday. 

“I know you all enjoyed it. I can tell 
that by your looks,” said the old man. 

We couldn’t help enjoying it,” answered 
Jenny. ‘^We just had all the things to 
make us happy. I hope Cousin Mabel en- 
joyed it as much as the rest of us did.” 

^^She certainly did,” responded this 
young lady. 

thought there might be one blot on 
the picture I brought back with me ; but, 
happily, there is not.” 

know what would have made the blot, 
Cousin Mabel. The wine Mr. Muzzey had. 
If all that had been emptied out of the 
bottles, there would have been a big blot. 
But I don’t believe there was a single bottle 
opened. Mr. Muzzey said you were the 
most eloquent temperance lecturer he ever 
heard speak on the subject.” 

‘^Why, Jenny!” 

‘‘Well, you know he did say so. AVas it 
wrong for me to tell of it?” 


174 


WEALTH AiS"D WIXE. 


‘‘You liave done nothing wrong, dear; 
only the flattery was extravagant. I only 
said I should not taste of the wine ; and 
then, when he asked me some questions, 
answered them frankly. I did not lecture 
at all.’’ 

“But Mr. Hilton did that las+ day, didn’t 
he?” 

“I think he did, Jenny.” 

“Raleigh said it was grand to hear him 
talk ; and J ohn said he wished everybody 
felt the same.” 

Often had John Warland wished that all 
the world was enlisted in the cause of total 
abstinence, that in years to come no one would 
tempt him to ruin. He began to see his dan- 
ger, and realize the curse which rested upon 
him. He must resist even unto death ; and 
yet there was the possibility of failure. 
Others had looked forward to life with the 
same resolves and the same vague fears ; the 
latter, alas ! sadly realized. 

Other questions pressed upon him. How 
could he take the first steps towards the suc- 
cess he coveted ? He was a studious scholar ; 
but he had studied that he might make his 
knowledge available. Thrown upon his own 


WEALTH AND WmE. 


175 


resources, as lie had been, he was shrewd in 
calculation far beyond his years. His mother 
was always his confidant ; yet he had originat- 
ed his own plans for earning money, and car- 
ried them into execution by efforts in which 
she could not aid him. 

His naturally fastidious tastes, and the 
really high-toned principles which were 
pressed upon him as a rule of conduct, were 
sufficient guarantee against his acquiring the 
habits of those with whom his poverty brought 
him in contact. Sis hour would come when 
surrounded with elegance and luxury ; when 
the poisoned chalice would be wreathed with 
flowers, and the smile of beauty charm him 
to a forgetfulness of danger. 

His grandfather judged him rightly ; and 
while regarding him with the most sincere af- 
fection, scarcely dared to hope that his char- 
acter would stand the test to which it must be 
subjected. 

think you are over-anxious,” said good 
Dr. Saunders, to whom the old man was wont 
to confide his troubles. know, as we say, 
that the chances are against him ; but he has 
had some hard lessons, and I believe he has 
profited by them. He understands what his 


176 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


besetting sin will be, and lie feels bis depen- 
dence upon God. Perhaps not as you and I 
do ; but in a way wbicli will make liim distrust 
liimself and bis own strength. He is consci- 
entious and truthful. Then he has a good 
mother, who is quick to see his faults, and 
wise to restrain him. Her love for him and 
his love for her are his great safeguards. I 
wish he took to farming. But he don’t ; and 
it’s of no use to talk of that. If you can 
keep him here for a year or two, he must go 
then to act for himself ; and never fear, friend 
Bedlow, but the Lord will have him in remem- 
brance.” 


CHAPTEE XII. 


THE WAEHIHa. 

T was at Mrs. Waiiand’s suggestion 
tliat in the autumn Ealeigli Bedlow 
left home to attend school ; while 
the work usually devolving upon 
him during the winter months was assumed 
by his cousin. 

Before divulging her plan, his aunt had 
so well matured its details that she was 
fully prepared to meet every objection 
which might be offered. She knew the 
house would be lonely, and that her son 
could never fill Ealeigh’s place. She knew 
her father would sorely miss the boy who 
had always stood at his right hand ; and 
whose absence would take much from the 
cheerful home life of the family. Yet she 
insisted that the ultimate gain would more 
than compensate for the present loss ; and 
at length she had the satisfaction of know- 
ing that her object was accomplished. 



177 


178 


WEALTH ANJy WIHE. 


Mabel Pease was to spend the winter 
with some relatives, whose acquaintance 
she had recently made ; so that she could 
not be depended upon to supply the glad- 
ness which might otherwise be missed. But 
there was Jenny, brave, helpful child ; forc- 
ing back the tears which would come at the 
thought of being separated from her brother, 
and assuring Aunt Jane that she could do 
almost everything herself. 

know just how Raleigh does, and I’m 
ever so glad he can go to school. Cousin 
John is almost as good; and Nelly and I 
are going to make believe he’s our brother. 
If Cousin Mabel were here, we shouldn’t 
mind so much. But we can’t have her al- 
ways.” 

^AVhy not?” asked Nelly, who, contrary 
to her usual custom, was inclined to ques- 
tion her sister’s conclusion. 

Because she don’t really belong here. 
And if she did, it’s likely some gentleman 
would marry her, and take her away.” 

‘^Do you think all that’s just true, mo 
ther ? ” 

‘*I think it is,” answered Mrs. Bedlow, 
caressing the child who thus appealed to 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


179 


her. can’t expect to have Cousin 

Mabel always ; and this winter we must 
make ourselves happy with each other.” 

‘‘And the long, long letters,” added 
Jenny. 

These letters, which never failed to make 
their appearance on the appointed day, did 
much to reconcile the friends of the writer 
to his absence. They were entertaining re- 
cords of school duties and pleasures; with 
many a loving message to the dear ones at 
home. 

“I am thankful for this taste of learn- 
ing ; most of all, because it shows me what 
I might do,” he wrote to his mother. 
“Tell Aunt Jane she will never know how 
much she has done for me in sending me 
here.” 

“I hope the boy won’t be discontented 
with the old farm,” remarked Mr. Bedlow, 
with a half-audible sigh, when he fully 
comprehended the meaning of the words he 
had heard. 

“He won’t be, father. I can answer for 
that. You know he says he shall come 
back to his work cheerfully.” 

“Yes, I know that. But there’s some- 


180 


WEALTH AKD WINE. 


tiling back of it. His father might have been 
a scholar ; and perhaps we ought to let the 
boy give up farming ; though I don’t know. 
I don’t know.” 

He knows all about it,” said Jenny com- 
fortingly. You wait till he comes, grandfa- 
ther, and he’ll tell you.” 

A bounding step ; a ringing voice subdued to 
gentlest tones ; the warm grasp of a strong, 
firm hand — all these announced the home-com- 
ing of Raleigh Bedlow. The very same open 
brow, sunny smile, and frank expression ; yet 
the face had undergone a subtle change which 
words can hardly describe. All did not see it, 
but some there were who recognized it at a 
glance. 

^^Did you want to come back?” asked his 
cousin, looking at him earnestly. 

^^Of course I did,” was the unhesitating 
reply. 

And you are willing to work here all your 
life ? ” 

am willing to do my duty, and my 
duty is here.” 

^‘But wouldn’t you rather study than plant 
potatoes and hoe corn?” 

Yes, if it was all the same to grandfather. 


AVEALTH AI^D 


181 


mother, and the girls. To be sure I should ; 
but I must think of others. I thank you for 
liaAung taken my place so long. It was more 
than I expected.’’ 

Why was it, Raleigh ? I don’t knoAV why 
I shouldn’t work as well as you. Grandfather 
has as strong a claim upon me as he has upon 
you.” 

^^Well, yes, John, I think he has; but my 
mother and sisters belong to me excluswely. 
You wouldn’t be satisfied to stay here and 
work as I expect to.” 

^^The work won’t satisfy you either, Ra- 
leigh. You aren’t the same you were the first 
time I saw you. You think about different 
things, and you mean to know more than the 
farmers about here.” 

‘‘T mean to know all I can ; but I expect to 
be a farmer for all that — hard-working and 
money-earning. I got some new ideas while I 
was away, and there are more to be had for a 
price.” 

^‘What price?” 

^^Hard study. I hope there’ll be a way for 
you, John. I knoAv you can’t stay here al- 
ways ; but it’s a safe place for us both.” 

‘Wild I need that kind of a place. Do you 


182 


WEALTH AND ^V1ND. 


believe I shall ever be such a man as — as — 
Do you believe I shall ever be a drunkard, 
Raleigh?” 

‘‘Believe it? No!” was replied indig- 
nantly. “What made you think of it?” 

“Something I have read, and some other 
things that I know. Do you think you 
could take a glass of wine, and drink half of 
it, and then set the rest down?” 

“Do I think I could? Why, you know I 
wouldn’t toiich the stuff any way.” 

“Yes, I know; but could you do it, if you 
should try?” 

“Certainly. Why not?” 

“Well, Raleigh, I’m afraid I couldn’t ; and 
that troubles me. I’ve been reading about a 
young man who was something like what I 
shall be.” 

“ How do you know what you shall be, un- 
less you have made up your mind?” 

“I do7i^t know,” said John deprecatingly. 
“I only think.” 

“ Well, I think you can be what you deter- 
mine to be ; but I don’t understand what you 
mean by all this talk. What is it?” 

For reply, another question was asked : 
“Have you ever read that when a man is in- 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


183 


sane, his children, if he has any, are likely to 
be insane?” 

‘^Yes, I have,” replied Raleigh, now com- 
prehending all that his cousin shrank from 
saying. “But your father was not insane. 
He acted with his own free will, and so can 
you. If you are like him, you will be respon- 
sible for it yourself.” 

But, Raleigh, you don’t know.” 

Don’t know? It seems to me I know 
something about you, John. You can’t be 
such a weak, miserable fellow as you’re try- 
ing to make out. Let me see what you’ve 
been reading. John Warland, I’ve always 
thought you were a great deal better than I 
am. I shouldn’t have done half so well as 
you have, if I had been in your place. I 
did think you were a Christian.” 

^^You have judged me kindly; but I’ve 
not been really tried yet. Only those who 
overcome have a right to be called Chris- 
tians. You might have done a great deal bet- 
ter than I have ; though it’ s been hard for me to 
do as well as I have. I’m glad I can talk just 
what I feel to you. I can’t say anything to 
mother or grandfather ; and Cousin Mabel isn’t 
here; so I’ ye l^ad to keep it all to myself.” 


184 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


You may talk to me just as muck as you 
want to ; but if I have guessed the secret of 
your trouble. Dr. Saunders would know best 
what to tell you.” 

^‘It was Dr. Saunders that gave me the 
story ; and I suppose he thought I needed to 
read it. I want you to read it too, and then 
tell me what you think.” 

A year before, Raleigh Bedlow would have 
met his cousin’ s questions and fears with some- 
thing like ridicule ; but, wiser now than then, 
he knew they were not thus to be set 
aside. After reading the story to which refer- 
ence has been made, he did not wonder at the 
impression it had produced. 

It was the work of a master’s hand; por- 
traying with startling vividness the downward 
career of a young man who, until he had at- 
tained the age of twenty-five years, was consi- 
dered above reproach. His father had gone 
down to a drunkard’s grave ; yet his personal 
merits were such, that this fact was wholly dis- 
regarded by the community in which he dwelt. 
His brilliant talents, agreeable manners, and 
high sense of honor made him a universal 
favorite ; moreover, he seemed to possess the 


WEALTH A:^J) wine. 


185 


crowning glory of manliood. He was an exem- 
plary member of a Cliristian cburcli. 

But in an evil liour lie put the wine-cup to 
liis lips. Then the appetite, so long dormant, 
asserted its fearful power. Like a demon, ex* 
ulting in its strength, it hurled its victim from 
his high estate, and plunged him into the fa- 
thomless abyss of shame and ruin. Again 
and again did he struggle to escape ; but the 
chain that bound him was an inheritance 
which, by a single thoughtless act, he had ac- 
cepted, and from which he could no more be 
free. 

Bearing the impress of truth, Dr. Saunders 
had read this story with a quickened sense of 
the wrong done to future generations ; and 
thinking it might benefit John Warland, had 
given it to him for perusal. The good man 
had not calculated upon its possible effect. 
He thought only that it might serve as a warn- 
ing. 

Not long after Raleigh’s return, he met the 
doctor ; and in their familiar conversation, re- 
ference was made to the narrative and the 
morbid feeling it had induced. 

‘^Well, well, that shows what blundering 
creatures we are,” was the response. “I 


186 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


wanted to do some good, and, instead of that, 
I have done hurt. Now I must try and undo 
it. I’ll manage to see John before long, and 
have a talk with him.” 


CHAPTER XIIL 


A NEW HOME. 

GrAIN Mrs. Archer uttered her favor- 
ite exclamation of surprise. Again 
she wondered what would happen 
next. 

^‘To think of Mabel Pease setting up an es- 
tablishment for herself ; as though she were 
forty, and had given up all hope of ever being 
married. The most absurd thing! Quite 
equal to Winthrop’s living in a garret.’’ 

‘‘It it proves half so wise as that, all sensi- 
ble people will have reason to rejoice. I did 
hope, wife, that your prejudice against Win- 
throp’s ref orm had died out. You know, or 
you might know, that he never stood so well 
in the community before as he does now. He 
is making an honorable name. Those who 
ridiculed him at first praise him now.” 

‘‘He might have done as well, and retained 
his old suite of rooms. I shall never have 
faith in any such out-of-the-way conduct. 



187 


188 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


But I am tired of talking about it. Winthrop 
must take care of liimself, and be responsible 
for his own actions. Mabel’s project troubles 
me now. I should remonstrate, if there was a 
shadow of reason for me to expect to have 
any influence. I invited her to stay with us, 
as she did when she was your ward; and I 
am sure she had no reason to complain of a 
want of kindness on my part.” 

“ I don’t think she has ever complained of 
you,” replied Mr. Archer. ^^But I suppose 
it is quite natural that she should want a 
home of her own.” 

^^Then why doesn’t she marry, as any sensi- 
ble girl would ? She has had a great deal of 
attention from gentlemen ; and I don’t doubt 
that she has had several offers of marriage ; 
though I am not in her confldence. If she were 
my daughter, she would do very different from 
what she has done. I don’t suppose she 
would marry the best man in the world, if he 
drank a glass of wine with his dinner.” 

‘‘1 don’t suppose she would marry any man 
who had not a principle against drinking 
wine ; and, to tell the truth, I am beginning 
to wonder that any woman dares to risk her 
happiness with a wine-drinker.” 


WEALTH Al^I) WINE. 


189 


^^For mercy’s sake, Mr. Arclier ! Wliat 
would you have ? Have nine out of every ten 
women live old maids, and go to housekeeping 
like Mabel Hayes?” 

Yes, rather than marry men who are like- 
ly to become drunkards. I should be glad 
if Mabel were disposed to make her home 
with us. But she prefers an independent es- 
tablishment, as she certainly has a right to. 
She has property enough to live comfortably, 
and she will make the most of it. If nine out 
of every ten women could keep house as 
pleasantly as she will, they would be far bet- 
ter off than they are now. Then she has an- 
other object besides her own enjoyment. She 
told you of young Warland ? ” 

Yes. But I don’t see why she need trou- 
ble herself about him. She is too young to 
set up for a philanthropist.” 

Mr. Archer had no more to say in justifica- 
tion of an act which justified itself ; and 
which neither he nor his Avife had a right to 
criticise. Up to this time, Mrs. Archer had 
hoped that her nepheAv would eventually 
marry Mabel Pease; and the fact that his re- 
cent course was calculated to raise him in the 
estimation of the young lady had been her 


190 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


only solace. The proposed arrangement she 
so condemned destroyed all hope of this 
marriage. 

For all this, Mabel Pease purchased a 
house, furnished it handsomely, and took 
possession ; with Mrs. Warland as super- 
intendent in whatever departments her own 
ability might prove insufficient. As a mat- 
ter of course, John came with his mother; 
or perhaps I should say that she came 
with him. Only his welfare would have in- 
duced her to leave her father and the 
quiet of her little cottage. 

Through the influence of Cousin Mabel, 
a situation had been offered him in Mr. 
Archer’s store; and as no part of his 
history had been concealed, whatever of 
disgrace attached to his name was known 
at once. After the first few days, during 
which he was learning his new duties and 
accustoming himself to his new surroundings, 
he felt that he was in the right place. 

His mother, too, was in a position which 
befitted her. Although paid a stipulated 
sum for service rendered, she was the com- 
panion of one who regarded her in no 
way inferior. Mrs. Archer might sneer, as 


WEALTH Al^B WHSTE. 


191 


slie certainly would ; yet even slie conld 
not meet Mrs. Warland without recognizing 
the ease and elegance of one accustomed 
to refined society. 

Grandfather Bedlow listened to descriptions 
of this home ; sometimes with frankly-ex- 
pressed satisfaction, and sometimes with 
ominous forebodings. “Everything seems 
all right,” he once remarked half doubt- 
iiigly. 

“It is all right, ” answered Raleigh heartily. 
“ It is pretty lonesome here sometimes, but we 
are getting used to that. We couldn’t ex- 
pect to have Aunt Jane and Cousin John 
here always, any more than we could to 
have Cousin Mabel. I’m glad John has 
found somebody to help him on in the 
world. We have our place here, and we’ll 
keep it as bright as we can. They will 
come to see us, and think how pleasant it 
is to get away from the city for a little 
while.” 

“Yes, my boy, I know that. I try to re- 
member that I can’t keep the young folks 
with me always, and I know John must go 
away some time. When you’ve seen him in 
the city, perhaps you’ll want to go too.” 


192 


WEALTH AXD WINE. 


while you are here, grandfather. I 
expect to be a farmer, and I calculate to be a 
happy one. The farm is gaining. It did bet- 
ter last year than it has before.” 

‘‘Yes, my boy, I know it, and I ought to be 
thankful for my blessings, without worrying 
about what’s coming in the future. Give my 
love to John, and tell him I pray for him.” 

John did not need to be reassured of this ; 
yet as he read the message, his heart beat 
quicker, while involuntarily his thoughts as- 
sumed the form of prayer. His home influ- 
ences were calculated to foster and develop 
whatevei’ was noble in his character. Faithful 
to his employer, he devoted his leisure time to 
the acquisition of knowledge which might 
be of use to him as he advanced. 

An experience of six months proved the 
wisdom of Mabel Pease in providing herself 
with a home, where she might live as accorded 
with her own ideas of home life. Here, too, 
she welcomed the friends whose society she 
prized, entertaining them as cordially as she 
did unostentatiouslj^. 

She knew at the outset that she could 
afford no extravagant expenditure ; that she 
could not vie with those whose yearly income 


WEALTH AHH AYIHE. 


193 


equalled or exceeded lier whole property. 
She did not weary herself with efforts to out- 
shine others, or gain a position which was not 
freely accorded. She had too many resources 
of happiness within herself to care for such 
distinction ; and now that she found herseK at 
perfect liberty to do what seemed to her good, 
she felt the influence of her early training. 
The homely ways of Aunt Martha had for her 
a peculiar charm. Two rooms of her house 
were furnished as other two had been in her 
childhood’ s home. In them was not an article 
which had not been hallowed by the touch of 
loving hands. 

Winthrop Hayes had been one of the flrst to 
congratulate her upon her independence ; and, 
as time went on, he occasionally spent an 
evening where he was sure of a cordial recep- 
tion and pleasant companionship. Mrs. War- 
land interested him scarcely less than did her 
friend, whose duties as hostess she shared. 
Everything here was so real and genuine 
that, having thrown aside his artiflcial man- 
ners, he experienced a sense of relief so soon 
as he crossed the threshold. 

These visits seemed to corroborate the report 
that the sudden change in his habits was in 


194 


WEALTH AXD WINE. 


some way connected with Mabel Pease. Gain- 
ing completeness and distinctness, perhaps 
by repetition, it was afterwards said he had 
been put on probation, and that the event of 
their marriage depended upon his habits. 

It may be that Mrs. Archer was responsible 
for this gossip. Certain it is that she never 
denied it ; while those most interested knew 
nothing of its existence. If Winthrop Hayes 
hoped now to win the love once denied him, 
he made no sign. If Mabel remembered the 
passionate declaration to which she had once 
listened, she betrayed this memory by neither 
word nor look. 

He was not now a society man. He had 
seldom appeared at any fashionable entertain- 
ment since he assumed the role of a hard- 
working lawyer, in which capacity he had 
shown himself worthy of commendation. They 
who had doubted his energy and perseverance 
found themselves compelled to yield their 
prejudices. Horace Hilton, who had at first 
trusted him only so far as was necessary to 
give him a fair trial, gradually gave to him 
an almost unlimited confidence. 

He was independent. His smaller debts 
were cancelled, and the claims of the once 


WEALTH AHD WIHE. 


195 


importunate creditor so nearly satisfied that 
they occasioned no anxiety. 

He was improving in every way. His words 
were truthful expressions of his sentiments ; 
his purposes honest and honorable. 

Among the infiuences which had wrought 
this change, not the least was his interest in 
Tessa, the child who still found a home with 
Mrs. Maitland. He did not often see her ; but 
he knew that her voice had lost nothing of its 
sweetness. Neither had she lost one of the 
friends won by her helplessness and personal 
attractions. On the contrary, she had gained 
many who were ready to assist her. 

Jessie Hilton, now Mrs. Waters, would have 
urged her adoption into some wealthy family 
had not others decidedly objected. ^^Mr. 
Hayes, what do you think should be done for 
jovly protege? asked this lady after a visit 
to the child. 

don’t know,” he replied. ^^She pro- 
mises to be a beauty, and her talent deserves 
cultivation. Of these two things I am sure. 
Beyond that I am entirely ignorant.” 

‘^She could make her fortune as a 
singer.” 

There is little doubt of that, Mrs. Wa- 


19G 


WEALTH AKD WINE. 


ters, and I suppose that is her destiny. If 
you and Miss Pease will decide what is best 
to be done for her, I will second your plans, 
and contribute accordingly. We shall soon 
have a young lady on our hands, and it 
would be poor charity to leave her in igno- 
rance.” 

As near as could be ascertained, Tessa was 
fourteen years of age ; older than many who 
consider themselves young ladies ; and know- 
ing more of the hardships of poverty than 
most people are ever forced to learn. 

A change of place for her had often been 
discussed*; but it was not until Mabel Pease 
wished to assist a friend, v/ho was preparing 
to open a boarding-school for young girls, that 
any definite decision was reached. This friend. 
Miss Dennen, resided with her mother in a 
pleasant and commodious house, which was 
their only possession ; and it was the desire to 
make this available which prompted them to 
try the experiment of receiving a limited num- 
ber of pupils. The daughter was fully quali- 
fied for the position she proposed to assume ; 
needing only a generous patronage to ensure 
complete success. 

To Miss Pease it seemed a providential 


WEALTH Aj^D WHN^E. 


197 


opening for Tessa ; and obtaining the consent 
of all interested, she lost no time in making 
the necessary arrangements. She even went 
herself to introduce the child, and bespeak 
especial kindness for a stranger in a strange 
land. 

Of course Mr. Hayes must receive a report 
of this visit. During the conversation between 
Miss Pease and himself, the former remarked : 
‘‘When Miss Dennen was in school, there 
seemed no probability that she would ever be 
obliged to earn her own living. Her father 
was considered a wealthy man, and up to the 
time of his death they lived in correspond- 
ing style.” 

“People are often deceived in regard to 
their own circumstances,” was the reply. 
“ There is no good reason why they should be 
so deceived ; but, speaking from experience, I 
believe there is nothing harder for a man who 
is losing ground than an honest examination 
of his affairs, especially if he knows himself to 
blame for his want of prosperity.” 

“I presume you are right, Mr. Hayes. I 
have sometimes thought that we fear ourselves 
more than we fear the world. If people who 
are going wrong could be made to pause, and 


198 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


see themselves as they really are, with the 
clanger to which they are exposed, I believe 
they would reform.’’ 

They would in most instances. There is 
no doubt of that. But they will not pause. 
Therefore they do not see. For ten years I 
never once fairly confronted myself. When- 
ever serious thoughts intruded, I crushed 
them or drowned them, as the case might be. 
I stifled my conscience ; though men living as 
I did affect a disbelief in this old-fashioned 
monitor.” 

^^Affectation is not reality, and, if it were, 
no disbelief, however positive, can annihilate 
an attribute which God has given. I am so 
old-fashioned that I accept old-fashioned 
truths without a question.” 

I know you do. In that respect you are 
the same as when I first challenged you to 
discussions of abstract and sometimes absurd 
theories.” 

Those discussions were very tiresome to 
me. I wondered then, as I do now, how any 
sensible man could talk as you did. Excuse 
me, but I am accustomed to speak the truth,” 
added Mabel with a smile. 

There is nothing to excuse. I need to hear 


WEALTIt ANE WINE. 


199 


the truth. Perhaps my practice then may 
aid me to make a more specious plea for a 
client whom I know to be the guilty par- 
ty. Aside from that, it was utterly sense- 
less.” 

It must be that Winthrop Hayes was in a 
moralizing mood. From the house of Miss 
Pease he went directly to Mr. Archer’s, where 
he found the gentleman alone in his library. 

^^Good-evening. Glad to see you. Sit 
down, and tell me how you are prospering,” 
was said cordiall}^. ^ ‘ Heard a man saj^ to- 
day that Hilton must look to his laurels, or 
you would take them from him.” 

‘^That is all nonsense,” was the reply. 
‘‘Hilton is worth two of me. He is as steady 
in his habits and thoughts as the sun in its ris- 
ing and setting. If he ever has an attack of the 
blues, it is when he is out of sight. He was 
building himself up while I was tearing my- 
self down ; and that makes all the difference in 
the world. He has all the past for a rear 
guard, while I have a host of enemies behind 
me always ready for an assault. As if I could 
take his laurels ! If I ever win any of my 
own, it will be more than I deserve.” 

“Come, come, Winthrop, that is no w^ay 


200 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


for a man to talk. Let tlie past go, and make 
the most of the future.’’ 

^‘The past will not be let go. That is 
the trouble. It holds me. Mr. Archer, did 
you ever feel that there would be for you a 
savage delight in plunging into some excess 
which would make you forget everything 
before it or after it?” 

‘^JSTo, Winthrop, I never did, and I don’t 
think I can quite understand such an un- 
natural state of mind.” 

‘^That is just the horror of it. It 
unnatural. I don’t suppose any one can 
understand it, unless he has perverted his 
entire nature.” 

Just here the old mocking spirit, not yet 
wholly exorcised, prompted bitter, sneering 
words, which would have swept away, as 
with a breath, the impression made by these 
last remarks. The evil prompting was re- 
sisted ; yet across the face of hun thus 
tempted there flitted a shadow, which a 
watchful eye observed. 

Don’t be too hard on yourself,” said 
Mr. Archer. 

~^‘I am not,” was the reply. Humility 
was never one of my virtues. But I am an 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


201 


infliction this evening. My own room will 
be the best place for me.” 

With this Winthrop Hayes rose to 
leave ; when his host detained him, saying, 
‘‘1 received a letter to-day in regard to 
young Warland ; and before I reply, I want 
somebody’s advice. I suppose I should con- 
sider the letter confldential ; but I intended 
to consult you or Mabel, and, as you are 
here, it may as well be you. Read the 
letter, and tell me what you think of it.” 


CHAPTER Xiy. 


A WIDOWED BEIDE. 

HERE’S a suspicious-looking char- 
acter in a corner of the rear car. 
Has his ticket all right for the 
through train ; but looks as 
though he might be anything from a mur- 
derer to a sneak thief. You’ll know him 
the minute you set your eyes on him. 
Keep a sharp lookout.” 

This was said by one conductor to an- 
other who was about to take his place. 
There was time for nothing further. The 
cry, ^^All aboard,” quickened the steps of 
laggards ; and hundreds of travellers look- 
ed forward to the end of their journey with 
eager impatience. There were men of busi- 
ness, and men of leisure ; plainly-dressed 
women in the maturity of life, and young 
girls to whom life was as yet but a dream 
of gladness. Some, too, there were way- 
worn and weary, sorrow-stricken and alone. 



203 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


203 


But of all, the man to whom attention had 
been called was most abject in appearance. 
He shrank from observation, yet seemed to 
feel that every eye was upon him. If he 
raised his head for a furtive glance around 
him, he lowered it again with a startled 
look, as though some fearful sight had con- 
fronted him. 

The conductor regarded him curiously ; 
noting the contour of his face, with the 
form and size of his hands ; both of which 
indicated a type of ruffian — if this he was — 
distinct from the common crowd of offend- 
ers. The semblance of poverty might be a 
disguise ; yet there was no mistaking the 
wretchedness stamped upon every feature 
of the haggard countenance. 

As the train neared its final stopping- 
place, satchels, valises, and extra Avraps 
were gathered together, that they might be 
in readiness for their owners. But the sus- 
pected man had not so much as a parcel. 
Jostled by others, as they rushed forward 
to leave the car, he returned to his corner 
until the passage was cleared. Then with 
faltering tread he descended the steps, and 
slunk away. 


204 


WEALTH Al^J) WINE. 


Clutcliing tile small amount of money in 
his possession, his first impulse was to pur- 
chase with it a temporary forgetfulness. He 
even paused at the door of a filthy saloon, 
and might have entered, had not some man 
pushed him from the sidewalk, thus giving 
him a shock which recalled him to a sense of 
his true condition. With difiiculty he regain- 
ed his standing, and then struggled on as be- 
fore. AVhither ? 

During the last twenty-four hours this 
question had been sounding in his ears. 
AVhere should he go? Who would receive 
him ? He was afraid to die, else he would have 
put an end to the miserable life, worthless to 
himself, and worse than worthless to others. 
The day was waning. A cold wind swept 
down the street leading from the city proper 
to its northern suburbs. A drizzling rain be- 
gan to fall, while the fast-increasing darkness 
threw a pall of gloom over every object. 

Shivering, trembling, often pausing, as if 
to gain renewed strength, the man pressed 
forward. His wet garments clung to him, 
seeming to weigh him down ; yet he dared not 
stay his steps. His eyes burned, and his tem- 
ples throbbed with acutest pain. Still on he 


WEALTH AND WINE, 


205 


went. He must have been familiar with every 
turn of the road, else he could never have 
found his way to the small, unpainted house, 
at the door of which he sank down utterly ex- 
hausted, as an involuntary groan escaped his 
parched lips. 

^^What is that?” asked a woman within 
the house, pausing to listen if the sound 
would be repeated. 

^^It’s only the wind,” replied a man who 
was busily engaged with some bits of 
wood. 

‘^But it sounded like a groan, husband. 
Perhaps some poor creature is out in the 
storm ; and, as mother says, there may be a 
chance to do good.” 

Mother’s always on the lookout for such 
chances. I mean to improve them when they 
come in my way ; but the sound you heard is 
only the wind.” 

Thus saying, the man addressed himself to 
his work. The woman rose, and went to the 
street door, which she opened. Peering into 
the darkness, and seeing no one, she was 
about to return to the cozy room she had just 
left, when she fancied that she heard heavy 
breathing. She listened ; then called her hus- 


206 


WEALTH AND WIND. 


band, and instantly the light revealed the 
prostrate form of a man. 

^^t’s Warland.” 

^ ^ W arland ? ’ ’ repeated the woman. ^ ^ Dear 
me! what can be done?” 

There’s only one thing to do now. Carry 
a light to the shop, and I’ll take him round 
there.” 

The room, originally a shop, and still retain- 
ing the name, was connected with the house 
by a covered walk ; and althongh roughly fin- 
ished, afforded a comfortable shelter. Upon 
a low bedstead was a sack, filled with straw, 
and spread with clean, coarse bedding. A 
small box stove, a table, two chairs, and a 
low bench made up the furniture of the room. 
The almost senseless man introduced to this 
room was evidently an unwelcome guest ; but, 
in his present condition, it mattered little 
whether he was greeted with smiles or frowns. 
A fire was lighted ; his soiled, wet garments 
were removed ; and after a thorough ablution, 
he was assisted to bed. When asked if he 
would have some food, he muttered a refusal ; 
and presently was sleeping. 

‘AU arland’ s worse off than I ever saw him 
before,” said Mr. Dearbon, as he joined his 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


207 


wife. mistaken, if lie an’t most tliroiigli 

with this world.” 

You’ve thonght so before.” 

‘‘1 know I have. But he never looked as 
he does now. Either he’s in great trouble, 
or else he’s going to die. ’Twould be a good 
thing if he should die. The world would be 
rid of a wretch.” 

know it, husband. But he an’t fit to 
die. It always makes me feel bad to have 
you talk so about him.” 

^^He an’t fit to live, either. There an’t 
anybody in the world that wants him 
round. Pm sure we don’t. I wouldn’t let a 
dumb beast die for want of care I could give ; 
and I wouldn’t turn anybody away such a 
night as this. But I an’t going to work 
to support Hastings Warland, when he’s 
wasted fifty times as much money as I ever 
had. We’ve done enough for him before this.” 

know we have. But you’ll let mother 
manage it, won’t you? You know she don’t 
mean we shall be any poorer for what we do 
for him, and she always pities him. She says 
he wa’n’t brought up right. His father al- 
ways let him have wine after he was old 
enough to come to the table.” 


208 


WEALTH AND WIND, 


“1 know all that, and I know that mother 
says his father wa’n’t much better than he is ; 
only the family kept it to themselves. The 
Warlands have always been hard drinkers. 
That may be some excuse for him, and 
a reason why they should have patience with 
him ; but it’ s no reason at all why other folks 
should have him round in the way. I hate 
any man like him. He’s no worse than thou- 
sands of others. The trouble is, he’s spent his 
money. If he’d had money enough to live in 
the style he began, he’d carried it out well 
enough. His wife would stayed with him, 
and—” 

Don’t blame her, husband. Mother says 
she bore all she ought to, and ten times more. 
I’m glad mother happened to be away to- 
night. We’ll see what she says when she 
comes home. She’ll come to-morrow, if it’s 
pleasant.” 

AVhen morning dawned, there was no trace 
of the storm which had swept from off the 
sea, and spent itself during the early hours of 
the night. Mrs. Bennett reached home about 
noon. 

^‘Who is in the shop?” she asked. 

^ ^ Hastings W arland. ’ ’ 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


209 


And is lie here again?” The tone in 
which this question was uttered made it more 
expressive than any mere declaration could 
have been. ‘^When did he come?” The 
events of the last evening were related. Then 
another question: ‘^What does he say for 
himself?” 

^‘Not much,” was the reply. ^‘He covers 
his face when I go where he is.” 

You’ve given him something to eat, Lois.” 

^^Yes, mother. Luther carried him some 
breakfast. He said he didn’t want any, but 
he ate every mouthful. He looks dreadfully — 
worse than he ever did before.” 

^Ht’s bad business. But he an’t alone. 
There’s a great many more as bad oil. It’s 
the cursed drink, and it’ s alt the same in the 
end, whether a boy begins with wine or with 
whiskey. If he’s got money enough, he can 
keep on with the wine, and live in style. If he 
han’t, he must come down, and be a gutter 
drunkard. It takes piles of money to keep 
up. Hastings had enough to live without 
work all his life ; but how much better off is 
he now than any other poor wretch?” 

‘^He’s a miserable wretch?” 

I know it, Lois, I know it. But I pity 


210 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


him, after all, poor boy. He used to be so bright 
and handsome. He’d make anybody like him, 
if he set out to. He was brought up to have 
his own way in everything; but he wa’ n’t to 
blame for that. Mrs. Ermengarde thought 
more of him than she did of any the rest ; and 
if he’d married to suit her, she’d been likely 
to make him her heir. But there, Lois, I’ve 
talked this all over a good many times. I 
won’ t say no more about it ; only I do wish 
he wouldn’t come here.” 

So do I, mother. Luther don’t want him 
here. He says he don’t want to work to 
provide for a Warland, and he hadn’t 
ought to.” 

Lois, he hadn’t. I’ve alvfays tried to 
pay for all Hastings has.” 

‘^I know it, mother, and that troubles 
Luther. I hope there’ll be some way to make 
it all right ; but I don’t know how.” 

Mrs. Bennett was an old woman — eighty-five 
by the family register ; and yet a stranger 
would have fancied her fifteen years younger. 
When scarcely more than a child, she had been 
employed in the family of General John War- 
land, Hastings Warland’ s grandfather; and 
although a servant, her obliging disposition 


WEALTH A^jy WIITE. 


211 


and quick intelligence made her a favorite 
with those she served. 

Ermengarde, the pet of the household and 
the pride of her father’s heart, was then a 
wee, toddling thing, imperious as a queen 
receiving the homage of her subjects. Yet, 
when it suited her mood, she was loving and 
tender, passionate in her demonstrations of 
affection or aversion, and withal a child of 
rare beauty. Mary Lanman, the young 
servant, quite won her heart, so that it was 
often said, ^^Mary is the only one who can 
manage Miss Ermengarde.” 

Time went on until the latter was eighteen 
years of age, when she became engaged to a - 
distant relative, bearing the old name and 
possessing an ample fortune. For once all 
were pleased with the proposed alliance. The 
lovers were devoted in their attachment. The 
imperious manner which had characterized 
the young lady vanished in the presence of 
her affianced husband. She acknowledged 
Lionel Waiiand as her equal, and, too proud 
for coquetry, allowed him to see how dear he 
was to her. 

As he was her first love, so he was the first 
who had ever received from her any tokens of 


212 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


favor. He reigned in her heart supreme and 
alone. She would reign thus in his heart, or 
her happiness was destroyed. 

How, no one could tell, not even herself ; 
but in some way she was led to believe that he 
had loved another before seeing her ; and this 
so haunted her that she was moved to speak 
some hasty words which a spirit as proud 
and sensitive as her own could illy brook. 
Lionel Warland could be both haughty and 
severe. He would make no confessions when 
challenged to do so. The strong will which 
had yielded to love’s caressing touch reas- 
serted itself. For a moment his betrothed 
bride feared him ; the next moment she sent 
him from her. 

‘‘Do you mean it ? Is it for all our lives ? ” 
he asked. 

“For all our lives,” she answered. 

He left her ; and without speaking to any 
member of the family, rode away. Two hours 
later, he was found by the roadside in a state 
of unconsciousness. He had been thrown 
from his horse — a most unaccountable thing 
for so fearless and constant a rider. 

Of course he was carried to the house he 
had just left, and medical attendance instantly 


WEALTH AISTD WIl^E. 


213 


summoned. No bones were fractured ; and, 
beyond some bruises, no external injuries 
could be discovered. He regained conscious- 
ness, and, under tbe influence of powerful 
stimulants, was able to converse. The physi- 
cian encouraged him to hope that the effects 
of the accident would be but slight and tem- 
porary. 

But he judged differently. He assured 
those about him that he had not long to live. 
He asked for Ermengarde, desiring to see her 
alone. Mary Lanman carried his message. 
He was dying. Would she come to him? 

She would have gone had she thus forfeit- 
ed her life. Silently they went out, one by 
one, when they knew that she waited at the 
door. She went in, and, throwing herself 
upon her knees, begged forgiveness for the 
words of the morning. 

Freely, tenderly, this was accorded ; and 
then, in a husky voice, Lionel Warland ac- 
knowledged that he, too, had been in fault. 
His hasty temper had been too quick to take 
offence. Moreover, early as it was, having 
met some friends, he had drunk too freely of 
wine, thus aggravating a severe headache which 
left him hardly master of himself. ‘‘1 alone 


214 


WEALTH WINE. 


am to blame, and I pay the penalty,” he said 
with a ghastly smile. 

Here a paroxysm of pain silenced his voice ; 
but he would not allow Ermengarde to call as- 
sistance. Still pressing her face to his own, 
he held her close. The paroxysm over, he 
talked of his love ; of all he had hoped and 
anticipated ; thanking her for all the happi- 
ness she had given him, and bidding her never 
to accuse herself as the cause of his death. 

At length the physician returned to care for 
his patient. 

Don’t leave me,” whispered the injured 
man when, with instinctive delicacy, his com- 
panion would have freed herself from his em- 
brace. ^^If you were only my wife!” 

Lionel! if I only were,” she murmured 
in reply. 

At that moment the clergyman who had 
known her from her infancy entered the room. 
Advancing to the couch, he extended one hand 
to grasp that which was feebly outstretched to 
him ; while he rested the other upon the 
bowed head of the still kneeling girl. 

ISTot much was said. It was enough for him 
to know that before him were two who wished, 
ere death should part them, to call each 


WEALTH AKD WINE. 215 

other by the endearing names of husband and 
wife. No one objected, and the marriage-ser- 
vice was performed. A strange bridal ! The 
last word pronounced, a solemn stillness brood- 
ed over all, broken at length by the bride- 
groom, who asked for some one to write what 
he should dictate. 

A friend of the familj^-, who had come to ren- 
der such assistance as he might, was ready to 
act as amanuensis. Then Lionel Warland, in 
a distinct voice, proceeded to dictate his last 
will and testament ; by which he bequeathed 
to his dearly-beloved bride, Ermengarde, his 
entire property, wherever found, to be used 
and devised by her without limitation or con- 
trol. With a careful choice of words he could 
never have excelled, he guarded against the 
possibility of the will being set aside by a 
quibble of law, at the same time calling upon 
all present to witness that he was in full pos- 
session of his mental powers, free from the re- 
straint or influence of others. The will was 
duly signed, and given into the hands of the 
gentleman who had prepared it, for safe-keep- 
ing. 

Messages to absent friends and relatives 
were then dictated. 


216 


WEALTH AND AVINE. 


Nothing more,’’ he murmured wearily, 
when asked if more was to be written. If I 
have offended any, I ask forgiveness, as I free- 
ly forgive all who have in any way injured 
me.” 

The Warlands were not a religious family. 
With an outward deference for the ordinances 
of religion, had the men of this family given 
utterance to their true sentiments, they Avould 
have said that they felt themselves fully able 
to meet the exigencies of both life and death 
without calling for aid from any unseen power 
which might or might not exist. The Avomen, 
Avith no more of actual pity, were constant in 
their attendance upon the seiwices of the 
church ; and, in a vague Avay, trusted the 
mercy and goodness of Grod. 

Now, in the chamber of death, who should 
guide a Avandering soul to the Father’ s house ? 
The clergyman well knew the minds of those 
Avhom as his personal friends he had reason to 
respect and esteem ; but he must do his duty, 
and leave the event Avith God. 

The dying man listened to Ms words ; then 
answered not irreverently: have never in- 

tended to make the world Avorse for my liaA- 
ing lived in it, and, if I am to be judged, I 


WEALTH AXD WHS'LL. 


217 


trust I shall be able to bear tlie sentence. I 
thank you for caring for me/’ he added. 
Then, after another pause, as the beaded 
drops gathered on his forehead: ^‘Pray with 
me.” 

It may be the listeners felt not the in- 
visible presence to whom prayer w-as ad- 
dressed ; but he who offered this prayer 
seemed to himself overshadowed by the majes- 
ty of One no eye hath seen. Lingering only 
for a last pressure of the shapely hand again 
extended, when his duty was done, the clergy- 
man took his leave. 

For the two succeeding days there was in 
that house a fearful struggle between life and 
death; and when it ended, Ermengarde War- 
land was a widow. 


CHAPTER XV. 


POVERTY AND WEALTH. 

OR years the young widow was sel- 
dom seen by strangers. She buried 
herself in solitude, or, with Mary 
Lanman as a companion, retraced 
the winding walks through wood and dell 
where she had wandered with her lover, whose 
memory hallowed each familiar scene. Mary 
was always a sympathizing listener to the oft- 
repeated tales of tenderness ; always patient 
with the half-crazed girl, who allowed herself 
no enjoyment which might separate her 
thoughts from the dead. 

When she reached the age of twenty-two, 
still wearing the weeds of widowhood, this 
companion left her ; and not until then did the 
family know how much they were indebted 
to the faithful, intelligent ‘ servant. Xo one 
could take her place. Xo one would so bear 
the petulance of the widowed bride, who 
fancied her own claims paramount to all 



WEALTH AHD WINE. 219 

others. She even questioned the right of 
Mary Lanman to assume new relations and 
responsibilities. 

Yet a sense of gratitude prompted her to 
make some acknowledgment of the loving 
service which no money could repay. Among 
other gifts, useful and substantial, was a ring, 
upon which was engraved the family coat of 
arms, with the single word, Toujoitrsy 
Send me this ring when you will, and ask 
what you will. Your request shall be grant- 
ed.” 

These few lines accompanied the quaint, 
old-fashioned circlet of gold it had pleased 
the haughty woman to bestow, in queenly 
fashion, as a pledge of her friendship and 
favor. 

Mary Lanman was thirty-four when she was 
married to George Bennett, who left her a 
widow at sixty, with one daughter, Mrs. 
Dearbon, who was introduced to our readers 
in the last chapter. Occasionally Mrs. Ben- 
nett had seen Mrs. Ermengarde Warland ; but 
leading lives so wid'ely different, as time went 
on, they drifted far apart. The ring had never 
been presented or a request made. 

Yet all important changes in the family 


220 


WEALTH AXD WIjS^E. 


were known to tlieir former servant ; and 
when Hastings Warland was a lad, lie liad 
boarded for a few weeks with Mrs. Bennett, 
whose home was then in the conntry. She 
understood him thoroughly ; knew his faults, 
and was able to predict his probable future. 
When he married, she hoped her fears would 
not be realized. When told of his dissipa- 
tion, she pitied him scarcely less than the 
beautiful wife he was dragging down with 
him. 

Removing to her daughter’ s home, in some 
way she was found by the miserable man, who 
craved a shelter for the night. This would 
hardly have been denied to a stranger ; surely 
not to one bearing the name of Warland. For 
years after this he had made his appearance 
from time to time ; sometimes well dressed, 
and supplied with money, which he ostenta- 
tiously displayed, and sometimes habited 
like a beggar, without a penny to pay for a 
crust of bread. 'Now he had come again, 
wretched, and destitute, and unwelcome. 

‘‘Don’t go to the shop till you’ve had 
your dinner,” said Mrs. Dearbon. “Has- 
tings Warland can wait for his.” 

It was not of his dinner he thought. He 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


221 


longed with a wild, mad longing for some 
liery, alcoholic drink. A shadow haunted him. 
Waking or sleeping — and he was not sure 
that he had slept since Dr. Saunders bade him 
farewell — his son, with rigid form and fea- 
tures, stood beside him. Shuddering, he 
shrank from the strange apparition ; and yet 
it pressed upon him. 

When Mrs. Bennett entered the room, he did 
not turn his face towards her. 

Hastings, why are you here in this 
plight ? ’ ’ she asked. 

Because I could go nowhere else,” he re- 
plied with a groan. “1 know you don’t want 
me. I know it,” he added bitterly. ‘‘They 
have all cast me off.” 

“Because you have cast off your manhood. 
Don’t blame others. The fault is your own.” 
No reply was made to this, and tlie woman 
presently said : “I have brought j^our dinner. 
Sit up to the table, and eat it. Then I am 
coming to have a long talk with you.” 

The plain food was eaten, and the large 
bowl of coffee eagerly drained. But this did 
not satisfy his unnatural appetite. He retreat- 
ed to the corner, Avhere he could most easily 
avoid observation, and waited for the return of 


222 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


Mrs. Bennett. He dreaded tier appearance, 
and yet lie looked to lier for help. She came 
in, and sat down without speaking. At 
length he raised his eyes, and met hers fixed 
full upon him. 

^AVhat shall I do?” he asked in a de- 
spairing tone. 

^AVhat do you wish to do?” 

‘‘I wish to die, soul and body.” 

‘^You have done all you could to kill 
them ; but what there is left of your soul 
must live for ever. Don’t you ever think 
of that, Hastings AYaiiand?” No response. 
‘AYliere did you come from?” was then 
asked. 

^‘Prom the country,” he replied with 
some hesitation. 

‘AYliere are your wife and son?” 

— I left them in the country.” 

‘AVhen?” 

Yesterday. No, the day before that, 
I think. I’m not sure — O Mrs. Bennett ! 
I can’t tell. I’m going crazy. Don’t you 
see John standing here beside me? He’s 
dead. And — and I killed him! No, I didn’t 
kill him. They say I did. But I didn’t. 
Go away, John! Go away! I wouldn’t 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


223 


hurt you, John. You know I wouldn’t. 
They’re all against me. They say I killed 
you. But I didn’t.” 

Hastings Waiiand, what do you mean? 
Have you committed murder ? ’ ’ 

^‘Murder! No, I wouldn’t hurt my boy — 
all the boy there is. You know I couldn’t 
do that.’’ 

Mrs. Bennett was at fault. She found it 
difficult to decide in regard to her compa- 
nion’ s sanity ; and when at last she was 
convinced that his excitement was due to 
recent causes, she determined, if possible, 
to learn what these causes had been. She 
asked many questions ; and he, too miserable 
to resent her curiosity, answered them truth- 
fully. He even revealed the fact that his 
wife had utterly discarded him. He hoped 
John was not seriously injured. He thought 
the matter had been overstated. Yet he 
acknowledged that he was crazed with 
liquor, and therefore incapable of forming 
a correct judgment. 

This much was told ' in disconnected sen- 
tences — confessions wrung from a guilty 
soul which could no longer carry the 
burden of its guilt alone. 


224 


WEALTH AIS-D WIjN'E. 


^^Wliat are you going to do now?” 

don’t know. Wliat sliall I do?’’ asked 
tlie iinliappy man. 

have told you over and over again, 
Hastings Warland. Give up drinking, and 
lead a sober life. You can do that?” 

‘^Can I, Mrs. Bennett? Did you ever 
know a AVarland to give up liis wine and 
brandy?” 

^^You liave gone beyond that.” 

‘‘1 was driven beyond that. I’m a poor 
man, and must take such as I can get. 
Don’t you suppose I should prefer to sip 
my wine at a well-spread table, in an 
elegant house? That’s the way my brothers 
do. Tell them what you have told me, 
and then hear what they will say.” 

‘^But they are not in your condition. 
They provide for themselves and their 
families.” 

‘^Yes, Mrs. Bennett. Do you think I’d 
be here, begging for a place to lay my liead, 
if I had the money they have ? They have 
cooler heads than mine ; but, curse them ! 
they care as much for drink as I do. 
They’d take my boy, and bring him up 
like a gentleman, and they’d let me starve. 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


225 


But they sliahi’t have my boy. He belongs 
to me, and there’s not another in the gene- 
ration.” 

^‘Then come what will, you won’t give 
up drinking.” 

‘‘I haven’t said so,” he replied impatient- 
ly. don’t know. I know you don’t 

want me here,” he added humbly. ^^But 
if you’ll let me stay till I'm stronger, I 
can pay you.” 

‘‘We want no pay; but you can stay.” 
Saying this, Mrs. Bennett returned to the 
house. 

^^Well, mother?” 

‘‘It’s anything but well,” was the response 
to this salutation. “I told Hastings he could 
stay till he’ s stronger. According to his own 
story, he’s cast off by everybody.” This 
story was then repeated, with the comment : 
“Some part of it must be true.” 

The next morning the occupant of the shop 
was seriously ill. The physician who was 
called pronounced his symptoms to be those 
of brain fever, and expressed serious doubts 
as to his recovery. 

Mrs. Bennett consulted with herself as to 
what should be done. There was enough and 


226 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


to spare in the Waiiand family. Mrs. Ermen- 
garde Waiiand was a wealthy woman, yearly 
adding to her property from its own income, 
of which she spent a comparatively small 
part. Her home was more than a hundred 
miles away. But Mrs. Bennett was accus- 
tomed to travelling and familiar with the 
route. She did not fear to attempt the 
journey; and, waiving all objections offered 
by her daughter, she made the necessary 
preparations. 

am perfectly able to go,” she said de- 
cidedly. ‘‘There is no change of cars; and, 
old as I am, T can sit still till I reach the city. 
Then I can take a carriage to the house. We 
can’t turn Hastings AVarland into the street. 
’Twould go against my conscience to do that. 
But I’m not going to provide for him, as long 
as some one else is under obligation to do it. 
If I don’t succeed, then we’ll see what else 
can be done. I sha’n’t be gone but one night, 
and I have faith that I’m doing as the Lord 
directs.” 

This was conclusive. At noon Mrs. Ben- 
nett started on her mission. Fortunately, an 
acquaintance of her son-in-law was going in 
the same direction, and saw her safely in a 


WEALTH AISTD WIHE. 


227 


carriage for Mr. John Warlaii(3’s before leav- 
ing her. 

Mrs. Ermengarde Warland occnpied a suite 
of rooms in the old family mansion, now 
owned by her nephew, which had been so 
enlarged and improved that there were ample 
accommodations for the separate establish- 
ment she chose to maintain. 

Up to the very boundaries of the estate the 
land was occupied ; so that what had once 
been a secluded country residence was now 
in the suburbs of a bustling city. Yet it was 
easily recognized by one to whom every tree 
and stone had for years been familiar. 

Mrs. Warland was at home. Would the 
lady give her name? 

Instead of this was given a tiny parcel, with 
the explanation, “Mrs. Warland will know.” 

The visitor had not long to wait before the 
servant returned to say that Mrs. Warland 
would see her. Doors swung noiselessly. 
Not a footfall was heard, as Mrs. Bennett 
passed through the hall and up a long flight 
of stairs, lighted by an arched window of 
stained glass. She stood within tlie room 
where was seated her former mistress and 
companion. 


228 


WEALTH ANJy WINE. 


‘‘Mary, you are welcome.’’ 

How strangely sounded this name to the 
aged woman, as she advanced to the chair, 
from which her hostess did not rise ! “I am 
glad to see you, Mrs. Warland. I hope you 
are well.” 

“ Thank you, Mary. Be seated. Have you 
come far to-day?” 

To this question Mrs. Bennett answered 
frankly that she had come a long distance to 
prefer a request which she trusted would be 
granted. 

“ I will hear that when you are refreshed,” 
was said kindly. ‘ ‘ I never forget my pro- 
mises.” 

The visitor did not feel the need of refresh- 
ment. But a servant was summoned, who 
showed her to a room where she could lay 
aside her bonnet and shawl, and make the 
slight changes in her toilet which were re- 
quired. She was then served with dinner ; 
and from the dining-room went again to Mrs. 
Warland. 

“ I hope you have been made comfortable,” 
remarked her hostess. 

“I have been,” was the laconic reply. 

“Ah! Mrs. Bennett, time has dealt lightly 


WEALTH AN]) WINE. 


229 


with you. When I first saw you, I could 
think of you only as Mary. You are the very 
same after all these years. I have thought of 
you more than usual in the last few days. 
How long is it since I gave you this ring?” 

Fifty years to-day.” 

Fifty years ! Is it possible ? I was young 
then. How I am old. But I am ready to 
redeem the pledge of my youth. What is it 
you desire?” 

Nothing for myself. I have come to ask 
you to make some provision for your nephew, 
Hastings Warland.” 

^^How dare you — ” The circlet of gold 
caught the speaker’s eye, and arrested the 
angry words which trembled upon her lips. 
‘‘Do you know that I have no such ne- 
phew?” 

“I know that he is disowned,” replied Mrs. 
Bennett calmly. “He came to my home a 
beggar, ragged and starving, and without a 
place to lay his head. He was drenched with 
rain, and he fell at the door senseless. My 
son-in-law took him in. He has done it many 
times before, and I have paid for the trouble. 
I was away from home. I came back yester- 
day. Hastings told me he hadn’t a place in 


230 


WEALTH AHD WINE. 


tlie world to go to, and begged of me to let him 
stay. I couldn’t turn him into the street, so 
I told him he might stay till he was stronger. 
This morning he was sick, threatened with 
brain fever, and, with his habits, he will be 
likely to die. I should starve before I would 
ask help for myself ; but I ask it for Hast- 
ings Warland, one of your own family. He 
has stronger claims upon you than upon 
me.” 

These words were fitly chosen. In her 
long intercourse with an educated family, 
the speaker had acquired habits of expres- 
sion which gave her great advantage. She 
knew, also, that plain, direct statements would 
be more likely to effect her purpose than 
elaborate appeals. She waited for a response, 
which took the form of a question : 

‘‘Where is Hastings’ wife?” 

“At her father’s.” 

“And his son?” 

“With his mother, if he is alive.” 

“ What do you mean, Mrs. Bennett ? Don’t 
tell me that boy is dead.” 

“If he is, his father is a murderer.” 

“ A murderer ! Tell me — ” 

There was not much to tell. Notliing posi- 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


231 


tive ; for a man so imbrnted as Hastings War- 
land could liardly be trusted in liis best 
moments. But wliat liad been told to lier 
Mrs. Bennett repeated. 

‘Ht is not a matter of choice with me,” now 
said Mrs. Waiiand coldly. “1 should grant 
any request of yours which was possible to 
me. You will understand that I acknowledge 
no claim of this man to my regard or assist- 
ance. He bears an old name which has been 
honored and respected. He has disgraced it. 
But I will provide for him. If he should die, 
there will be the expenses of his sickness and 
burial. If he should live, he must have an 
ample support. What will be sufficient for 
that ? ” 

This question had hardly been asked when 
a generous sum was proposed by Mrs. WaiN 
land herself. 

^^The family will think I have acted fool- 
ishly,” she then remarked. We thought we 
had done with Hastings. But he must not 
beg from others while he bears our name. It 
all comes of a foolish marriage. If his wife 
was a true woman, she would never desert 
him.” 

Don’t blame his wife, Mrs. Ermengarde. 


232 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


You would never bear a tithe of what she has 
borne. You would never starve in a garret for 
a man who spent his money in the lowest 
haunts of the city, /wouldn’t do it. If no 
one else will endure his presence, how can 
she? She has borne enough.” 

Perhaps it was that some tender chord was 
touched by the name to w^hich she answered 
in her youth, or it might be that her sympathy 
was aroused. The haughty woman would 
seldom in her life have tolerated such a re- 
buke ; but now she received it in silence. After 
a time, she answered mildly, Hastings’ wife 
is not like me. She was never a fitting mate 
for him.” 

Mrs. Bennett did not care to continue the 
discussion. She had defended the absent, 
as it was both her duty and her pleasure 
to do. Beyond this her fine sense of pro- 
priety forbade her to go. 

Her hostess proceeded to business. A 
sufficient sum of money was placed in her 
hands to meet the immediate expenses of 
the unfortunate man, and with this a guar- 
antee for the payment of stipulated sums in 
the future. Her travelling expenses, too, were 
paid, and ample remuneration made for the 


WEALTH AND AVINE. 


233 


charity bestowed upon Hastings Warland in 
the past. 

The faithful friend had no reason to com- 
plain of her reception or entertainment. The 
object of her journey was accomplished ; and 
with the ring still in her possession, she reach- 
ed home, after an absence of less than two 
days. 

Her daughter met her at the door with the 
exclamation, mother! it is such a relief 
to see you. I hope you have brought some 
money.” 

“1 have brought enough,” was her reply. 

^^Then you have brought a good deal. 
That man is dreadfully sick, and needs the 
best of care. I don’t think he’s worth it, but 
I suppose he must have it.” 

For days it seemed that he must die ; 
then he began to improve, so slowly that it 
required the closest attention to detect any 
positive amendment. Beggar as he was, he 
suffered for no lack of care. A professional 
nurse remained with him day and night. Va- 
rious articles were added to the furniture of 
his room, which was made as comfortable as 
possible. 

It was not until the last of April that he 


234 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


was able to leave liis bed. His convalescence 
was retarded by tlie very regimen wliich Ms 
best good demanded. Mrs. Bennett insisted 
that lie should be treated without stimulants, 
and carried her point against both nurse and 
physician. Sometimes he begged piteously 
for wine or brandy, and, when denied, would 
manifest the greatest rage. Sometimes he 
would weep like a child over some fancied 
grievance ; yet it was supposed that his mind 
would gain strength with his body. 

The event proved otherwise. His brain had 
received a shock from which it did not rally. 
As the summer advanced, he 'delighted in the 
sunshine, resting idly in a luxurious chair 
which had been provided for him, or moving 
slowly about the garden. He seemed to have 
forgotten the past. He never talked of wife 
or child. He did not even read. 

During the summer months his room was 
handsomely finished and furnished. The 
walls were hung with brightly-colored pic- 
tures, and the carpet was like a bed of roses. 

All these changes were welcomed as a child 
would welcome them ; and, in his delight, 
something of the old childisliTook came back 
to his face. He addressed Mrs. Bennett as 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


235 


mother,” and seemed to find happiness in 
her presence. 

Mr. and Mrs. Dearbon would have prefer- 
red that he should be cared for elsewhere ; but 
the generous remuneration made to them for- 
bade any complaint. The stipulated sum, 
promptly remitted by Mrs. Ermengarde War- 
land, was faithfully applied to its intended 
purpose. Whatever surplus remained was 
well invested, to be returned should circum- 
stances demand it. 

Mr. Dearbon employed his leisure in fash- 
ioning whatnots, racks, fancy boxes, and other 
dainty articles of bits of woods of varied 
quality and pattern ; all arranged in accord- 
ance with some symmetrical design, and then 
skilfully polished. Hastings AVarland would 
watch this work for hours, fascinated by the 
blending of colors and the adaptation of 
shapes ; and when materials were placed in 
his own hands, he surprised those about him 
with the skill and taste which he manifested. 

Here was a new resource for him, and 
through the winter days this, with dissected 
maps, illustrated papers, and engravings, be- 
guiled the time which must otherwise have 
passed drearily. 


236 


WEALTH ANH WINE. 


How long lie miglit live in tliis condition 
was a matter of nncertainty. Tlie physician 
who attended him, and who was interested 
in his case, as one out of the common course, 
pronounced his bodily health quite restored. 
He had been in his present retreat somewhat 
more than a year, when Mr. Dearbon obtained 
reliable information of his wife and child, 
learning also that all legal bonds between 
them were sundered. Later, he heard of Mrs. 
Warland’s change of residence. 

Still the husband and father was uncon- 
scious of their existence. No allusion was 
made to them in his presence. Indeed, all 
efforts to rouse him to a realization of the 
past had so often failed that they were now 
entirely abandoned ; and what was once de- 
plored as a calamity came to be regarded 
a blessing. 

Such a life seemed scarcely worth the living, 
and yet a wise Providence prolonged it. 


CHAPTER XVL 


TEMPTATION. 

HE letter wliich Mr. Archer had 
placed in the hand of Winthrop 
Hayes was from Mr. John War- 
land ; that gentleman having been 
informed that his nephew was employed by 
the firm of ‘^H. Archer & Co.” 

The communication was dignified, and as 
reserved as the nature of the case would 
admit. Notwithstanding all which had 
transpired, the proud family still hoped to 
educate ^'the boy” as befitted his name and 
ancestry. They had tried persuasion, argu- 
ments, and threats ; and now, humiliating as 
was the condescension, they asked for Mr. 
Archer’s influence. The writer expressed 
himself certain that, could his unfortunate 
brother be made to comprehend the situation, 
the matter would be settled at once. No allu- 
sion was made to the mother. Evidently, she 
was considered of no importance. 



23r 


238 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


‘‘I don’t know what I am expected to do,” 
remarked Mr. Archer when the letter had 
been read. am sure of one thing. There 
is nothing I could do, if I was disposed to in- 
terfere. John understands all about it. He 
knows what he is sacrificing, and what he is 
likely to gain. His mother would rather he 
would die than go to the AVarlands.’’ 

‘^His mother is a sensible woman. Send 
him to the Warlands, and there would be 
ninety-nine chances out of a hundred for 
him to follow his father’s example.” 

I don’t think that, Winthrop. You over- 
state it. The boy is not all Warland. There 
is some good blood in his veins. His mother 
comes of a sturdy stock. But whatever he is, 
he does his duty faithfully in the store ; and 
as long as he does that, I will do the best I 
can for him. If the Warlands make a strike 
for John, they will find two determined women 
against them. John has a pleasant home, and 
I think I’ll mention that fact when I an- 
swer Mr. Warland’ s letter. It may be well 
for me to say, too, that John needs his mo- 
ther’ s infiuence, and could not be induced to 
leave her. Then he told me to-day that he 
would rather be a merchant than study a pro- 


WEALTH WINE. 


239 


fession. So I don’t see but what lie’s in the 
right place.” 

John is where he ought to be,” Winthrop 
Hayes made reply. He needs to work, and 
feel that he must depend upon his own exer- 
tions. If anything will save him, that will. 
Idleness is a curse. I know that by experi- 
ence.” 

I suppose you are crowded with business 
in the office,” now said Mr. Archer, wishing 
to change the current of his companion’s 
thoughts. 

‘^Yes, there will always be business where 
Hilton is. He can be trusted. He is not to 
be bought or bribed ; and his pleas are made 
of the best material.” 

^^That reminds me, Winthrop, that Hilton 
told me you were to make the plea in an im- 
portant case at the next term of court. I 
shall be sure to hear it, and I expect to be 
very proud of you.” 

I hope you will be,” was replied. Now 
I really must go. Good-evening.” 

Going to his rooms, Mr. Hayes took a cir- 
cuitous way leading past the office ; and, 
seeing that it was lighted, ascended the stairs 
to find Hilton hard at work. 


240 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


I am glad you liave come,’’ said the latter 
heartily. believe I am tired. But I must 
consult some authorities, to substantiate a 
point I wish to make, and I wish to be 
through with it before I go home.” 

The work divided, it was quickly done ; 
when something in the appearance of his 
fellow- worker attracted Horace Hilton’s at- 
tention. 

‘^What is it?” he asked, repeating the 
question both so well understood. 

‘^The old story,” was responded. ‘^If 
there were wine on this table, I should drink 
it, if I knew it would send me to perdi- 
tion.” 

^‘It would send you to perdition.” 

know it. I know it a thousand times 
better than you do. But sometimes I am 
afraid I shall go back. I only pledged myself 
for a year, and it is now nearly two years 
since I came here and asked you to give work 
to a beggar.” 

‘^And what have you done since then, 
Hayes ? ” 

^^The best I could. God knows I have 
tried to be faithful to you and to my 
pledge.” 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


241 


And you will persevere. I know you will, 
Hayes. You have everything to gain. I can 
only remind you of that, as I have done so 
often before.” 

I know there is everything for me to gain ; 
and I know, too, that I might lose everything 
by a single throw.” 

1 think it is in some such mood as now 
possessed Winthrop Hayes, that men and 
women who have once been reclaimed from 
evil courses return to them with reckless 
abandonment. The craving for excitement, 
the demands of appetite, and the rush of 
disordered thoughts paralyze the resistant 
forces, and bear their victim on to destruc- 
tion. 

The next morning the two lawyers met as 
usual. Temptation had been again resisted, and 
a day’s close application was rewarded by a 
night of restful sleep. As yet, the reformed 
man had avoided those places where his 
powers of resistance would be most severely 
tried. His old associates had relinquished all 
hope of winning him back to their companion- 
ship ; and in the hurry of their fast lives, 
almost ceased to think of him. 

When it was known, however, that he was 


242 


WEALTH AKD AVINE. 


to appear in court as the advocate in an im- 
portant case, the fact attracted attention. He 
won his laurels in the presence of an appre- 
ciative audience. There were Mr. and Mrs. 
Archer, Mrs. Warland, and Miss Pease, be- 
sides many others who had known him as an 
idle man of fashion. 

When op]3ortunity olfered, these friends 
congratulated him warmly upon his success. 
Even Mrs. Archer expressed her pfide and 
pleasure. Horace Hilton frankly acknow- 
ledged that his expectations were more than 
realized. 

The following day the hero of the hour re- 
ceived an invitation to a complimentary sup- 
per at a fashionable hotel. Against his own 
better judgment he accepted this invitation. 

must try myself,” he said. cannot 
always live like a recluse. I must learn to 
refuse wine, and then sit by while others 
drink it. Until I can do that, I am but half a 
man.” 

Better half a man than not at all a man,” 
replied Hilton. 

“Yes, I know that by experience. I must 
learn some other things in the same way. I 
know all you would say, and I feel the full 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


243 


force of it. But in my own soul, I believe 1 
can resist to the end ; although my judgment 
wavers, I sincerely hope that the spell of the 
wine-cup for me is broken. Yet I am not 
sure. It may be there will come other 
struggles, when I shall need to find you and 
be put to hard work. Hilton, there’s not 
another person on the face of the earth to 
whom I would acknowledge my weakness. I 
am going to try myself, though my judgment 
hardly approves.” 

Then — But I have no right to dictate to 
you. Pray Grod you may not fall ! ’ ’ 

‘^Itl do, you will never see me again.” 

It would be difficult to account for the con- 
flicting thoughts which prompted this utter- 
ance. There must have been a mingling of 
manly independence with pride and defiance. 
Love of approbation had been stimulated by 
success ; and the speaker was not unmindful 
of the social popularity he might perhaps re- 
gain. While uncertain of his ability to do 
available work in his profession, and thus 
retrieve his fortune, he had not cared for this ; 
and now he wondered at the interest which 
had been aroused. 

On his way to the hotel he encountered a 


244 


WEALTH WIHE. 


crowd at tlie door of a drug-store, and, upon 
asking tlie cause, was told that a man had 
just fallen on the sidewalk, drunk or dead, 
no one knew which. 

‘^Used to be a swell cove,” remarked a 
rough-looking fellow. Shined his boots lots 
o’ times. Spent his tin for liquor, same’s the 
rest, and got thro wed.” 

Winthrop Hayes made his way through the 
crowd, and entered the store. 

‘^It’s Jeff Moulton,” some one was say- 
ing. 

Jeff Moulton ! Has he come to this ! Is 
he dead?” 

‘^No, he’s drunk,” responded a police 
officer carelessly. That’s the way the world 
goes. Sparkling wine and champagne in cut 
glass as long as the money lasts. Then whis^ 
key and New England rum in tin cups till 
the miserable fellows forget their trouble, 
the same as this one has. No use making 
any great fuss about it. There’s too many 
for that. The city will give a night’ s lodg- 
ing free, and perhaps throw in board for a 
month or two.” 

This was J eff Moulton, whose dainty habits 
had been proverbial, and whose fastidious 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


245 


tastes had made him conspicuous among his 
fellows. Drunk ! And with the vilest of 
liquors, as the fumes of his breath testified. 
Winthrop Hayes had known him well in other 
days. They had spent many an hour together, 
where a feast of costly viands and a fiow of 
choicest wines made men forget that the soul 
was more than the body. 

For a consideration the officer was willing 
to provide the unfortunate man with comfort- 
able quarters for the night, and detain him 
in the morning until a friend should ap- 
pear. 

This accomplished, it was not long before 
the friend was welcomed in a brilliantly-light- 
ed room, where his appearance was hailed 
with pleasure. The gentlemen had feared that 
he would not come. 

‘‘1 was detained,” he said byway of apo- 
logy. Then turning to a man beside him, he 
asked: ^^Have you known anything of Jeff 
Moulton recently ? ” 

‘‘I’ve heard he was going to destruction on 
a fast horse,” was the reply. “Always was 
delicate, you know. Couldn’t stand what the 
rest of us could. Sorry for him, though. Grot 
a good father and mother somewhere. But 


246 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


let him go. What made you think of him, 
Hayes 

have just seen him, and engaged an 
officer to look after him until I go round in 
the morning. I could hardly believe the evi- 
dence of my own senses. But I know that 1 
saw Jeff Moulton, dressed like a beggar, and 
so much intoxicated that the officer rolled 
him over as you would a log, and he knew 
nothing about it.” 

Exclamations of sympathy, regret, and dis- 
gust, all were uttered ; when one, more reck- 
less than his companions, said mockingly : 
‘^That’s a jolly way of getting through with 
life. Make the most of it, and then submit 
without a murmur to the buffetings of fate, 
even if they do come from the boot of a 
policeman. I trust I shall be able to 
maintain my dignity as well as Jeff. Com- 
plaints are for women and children ; not for 
men, who hold their destiny in their own 
hands.” 

‘^ISTot exactly,” rejoined another. Wo- 
men have something to say about the destiny 
of men, and something to do about it too. 
But for a woman, Jeff Moulton would never 
be where he is now. I know all about it ; 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


247 


and, for the sake of giving the poor fellow 
his due, I should like to tell his story.” 

should like to hear it,” said Winthrop 
Hayes.; and however distasteful the subject 
might be to the remainder of the company, 
no objection was made. 

Jelf Moulton is a good-hearted, generous- 
souled fellow, as most of us know. The only 
trouble with him is his dissipation ; and once he 
got the better of that. Signed the pledge, and 
went into business. His father furnished the 
money, and there was every reason to expect 
that Jeff would do well. He was firm too. I 
asked him once to take wine with me, and he 
refused in such a manly way that I thought 
better of him than I ever did before. I didn’t 
know anything about his pledge, or I wouldn’t 
have asked him. It’s likely I shall always 
drink wine more or less ; but if a man gives it 
up because he thinks that’s best for him, I’m 
not one to take the responsibility of infiuencing 
him against his better judgment. Moulton re- 
fused me as decidedly as though it were a case 
of life and death. Of course he was obliged 
to show his colors often. But he stood by 
them bravely, until at a party some young 
ladies, who had drunk too much wine them- 


248 


WEALTH WIHE. 


selves, laid a wager that they would make him 
break his pledge. 

The one Avho would be likely to have the 
strongest influence was chosen to effect their 
purpose, and she succeeded. She touched her 
own lips to the wine, and then, looking 
straight into his eyes, asked him to drink her 
health. You can imagine how it all was 
better than I can tell you. A woman held 
Jeff Moulton’s destinj^ in her hands, and she 
lured him to destruction. Say what you 
Avill, the destiny of any nation is in the hands 
of the women of that nation.” 

This simple recital produced a marked 
although varied effect upon those who heard 
it. It was not a fltting prelude to the pro- 
posed entertainment of the evening ; and by 
the efforts of some of the company a more 
cheerful subject was introduced. 

When they sat down to supper, Winthrop 
Hayes quite eclipsed himself in his brilliant 
repartees and bon-mots. He listened to his 
friends, seeming to think only of the present ; 
yet clear and distinct as the tones of a bell 
rang in his ears these words : If I fall. If I 
fall.” Ho other heard it. Ho other realized 
how much depended upon that single even- 


WEALTH AHD WINE. 


249 


King. His wit flashed and sparkled with still 
increasing brilliancy nntil the decisive mo- 
ment arrived. 

He said calmly : Gentlemen, if I taste this 
wine, I am a doomed man. So sure as a drop 
passes my lips, I shall relinquish every hope 
of this life and of the life to come. Shall I 
drink with you ? ” he asked, scanning the 
faces of those around him. 

There was no reply. He extended his hand, 
as if to grasp the fatal cup, when it was 
snatched away by the gentleman who had* 
told the story of Jeff Moulton’s fall. 

^‘For God’s sake, Hayes, don’t touch it. If 
you’ve spoken the truth, it would be worse 
than suicide.” 

“1 have spoken the truth, and only the 
truth,” was responded with the same 
calmness which had characterized the state- 
ment previously made. ‘Mt is nothing 
of which I should be disposed to boast. 
I regret, gentlemen, that I should interfere 
with your arrangements, or do anything to 
mar the pleasure of this occasion. But I 
must beg you to excuse me. Accept my 
thanks for your kindness.” And with a 
graceful bow, Winthrop Haj^es left the room. 


250 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


Exclamations more empliatic tlian refined 
followed his departure. Questions were asked 
without a thought of answers being given. 

Would he have taken wine had no one 
interposed ? Having taken it, would he have 
relapsed into his old habits ? Had he relaps- 
ed, at whose door would have been the guilt 
of his so doing ? Ought not every man to 
have sufficient force of will to drink moder- 
ately without being in danger of indulging to 
excess ? Did total abstinence from all intoxi- 
cating drinks conduce to the best good of the 
abstainer ? Had it done so in the case of 
Mr. Hayes?” 

These questions might be out of order. 
Nevertheless, they were discussed with more or 
less of earnestness by nearly all present ; while 
many a glass of wine was scarcely tasted. 

I am glad Hayes had the manliness to say 
what he did. I honor him for it, just as I 
honored Moulton for refusing to drink with 
me. If the poor fellow had only persevered, 
he would have saved himself and his friends a 
vast amount of suffering. Hayes has showed 
us what he can do at his best ; and I should 
never forgive myself, if I had been the means 
of leading him to do his worst.” 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


251 


Who thought of coining here to a tempe- 
rance meeting ? now exclaimed one. ^^That 
was not down on the programme or bill of 
fare. If it liad been, I should be prepared 
with something to say. We are not all like 
Hayes and Moulton. Some of us have heads 
that are tolerably clear and strong.” 

Stronger heads than yours and mine have 
yielded to the power of wine. But I’ll not 
preach upon this subject until I have a better 
right than now. I shall look after Jeff 
Moulton, and see what can be done for him. 
We must not let him go down out of sight 
without making an effort to save him.” 

This speaker was he who had said that it 
was likely he should continue to drink wine ; 
but it must be acknowledged that he returned 
to his home that night with new thoughts 
stirring his heart. 

The next morning Winthrop Hayes went 
early to the station-house. As I have before 
said, he Avas not a philanthropist. He did not 
seek his old acquaintance with the same feel- 
ings which would have actuated Horace Hilton 
in a similar visit. Nevertheless, he went with 
an honest purpose to do what he could for the 
degraded man. The immediate effects of the 


252 


WEALTH AND AVIHE. 


late debauch were still visible ; and a more 
pitiable object is rarely seen than was pre- 
sented Avhen the door of a private cell was 
thrown open to admit the visitor. 

^^Good-morning, Moulton.” 

^‘Good-morning,” was replied with stam- 
mering tongue. ‘^Say, give a poor fellow 
something to drink, will you ? Got hard up, 
and han’t nary a red.” 

“Look up, Moulton. See who I am. Open 
your eyes.” 

“Can’t tell who you are. Eyes an’ t quite 
right. Say, give a fellow a drink, will you? 
An’t particular what’s the kind.” 

Winthrop Hayes rushed from the cell 
thoroughly disgusted, and locked the door 
behind him. He made sure that the prisoner 
would receive all necessary attention through 
the day, ordered substantial food and strong 
coffee from a neighboring restaurant to be 
sent at the proper hours, and turned to his 
own business. 

Again in the street, he met Mr. Abbot, who 
had spoken a kind Avord for the young man, 
and Avith Avhom he now discussed Avhat should 
be done. 

“He needs eA^ery thing. It will be a hard 


WEALTH AA^D WIIiE. 


253 


pull for liim to regain wliat lie lias lost ; but I 
suppose it is possible for liim. I couldn’t do 
it. Perhaps he can.” 

Hayes, allow me to congratulate you,” 
said Mr. Abbot, in reply. You took us by 
surprise last evening, but every one of us 
thought the better of you for speaking so 
frankly. Should you have taken the wine, if 
I hadn’t snatched it away?” 

‘‘It was not my intention to take it. But 
it was best for me to leave you before your 
drinking had progressed very far.” 

^^Best to err on the safe side. As you have 
seen Moulton, I will postpone my visit until 
later in the day. If any new plan for his 
benefit suggests itself, I will report to you. 
We must save him if we can.” 

Then to the office, where Mr. Hilton was 
already at work. 

Good-morning.” 

Good-morning.’' 

There was nothing to conceal, nothing for 
which to be anxious, as this salutation was 
exchanged. It was nearly noon before any 
reference was made to what had transpired 
the previous evening ; and at that time Jeff 
Moulton was the theme of conversation. 


254 


WEALTH AI^D WINE. 


it liad resulted, the supper seemed of compar- 
atively small importance. 

If a ■woman tempted Jeff Moulton to break 
his pledge, she is the one to reclaim him,” 
said Horace Hilton. Whoever she is, it is 
only right that she should know what she has 
done. If every woman would refuse to drink 
wine herself, and frown upon its use in others, 
we should soon see it banished from sideboard 
and bar. Whatever may be true in regard to 
other great interests, the women of the country 
have this in their own hands. I am hoping 
for the appearance of some woman, endowed 
with persuasive eloquence and personal mag- 
netism, who will attract to herself all classes 
and conditions of society, and so teach this 
truth that her sisters will feel their respon- 
sibility.” 

How would you have her do this ? ” asked 
Mr. Hayes. 

“How? In the same way that all reforms 
are carried. With pen and tongue. In private 
circles, and on the platform, if this should 
seem best to her. It is not for me to dictate. 
Prejudices and traditions ought never to stand 
in the way of a great work. If souls can be 
saved, who is to dictate how these souls are to 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


255 


be readied and aroused to a sense of their 
danger ? If our country can be saved from the 
thraldom of intemperance I, for one, will bid 
God-speed to any man or woman who strikes 
a blow to sever the chains.’’ 


CHAPTER XVIL 


FASHIOlSrABLE DEINKma. 



EFF MOULTON was taken from tlie 
station-liouse clothed and in his 
pj right mind. A hoarding-place was 
^ provided for him where he would 
have the comforts of a home, and still be 
shielded from temptation. Here he had time 
for reflection. He remembered his broken 
pledge ; recalled the very moment of his 
fall, when Clara Truman, with ruby lips and 
starry eyes, had challenged him to pledge her 
her in the wine-cup. 

Before this he had loved her. He could not 
hate her, even now, when all that made life 
desirable had been sacriflced at the shrine of 
her thoughtlessness ; and he knew, only too 
well, that she regarded him as unworthy of 
her notice. 

Mr. Abbot had been told the name of this 
young lady. Mr. Hayes soon heard it, and 
learned that Mabel Pease had a slight ac- 


WEALTH AND AVINE. 


257 


quail! tance witli Miss Truman. She was a 
gay, careless girl, whose fashionable educa- 
tion had by no means tended to develop 
the best elements of her character. 

I believe there is more of good in her than 
she herself knoAvs,” said one who decided to 
appeal to her in behalf of Mr. Moulton. 

Mabel Pease was too Avise to do this ab- 
ruptly. But choosing time and place, she led 
the conversation to the desired point. The 
recent disgraceful fall of one who had stood 
high in society provided the opportunity 
desired, and from this one instance it was 
easy to draAV general conclusions. 

To these her companion assented, with 
many ejaculations of surprise and disgust 
that any man could stoop to drink to intoxi- 
cation. White hands were uplifted, and rose- 
bud lips Avere curled in scorn. 

‘^Then I am sure you Avould not willingly 
do anything to tempt a man to such a 
fate.’’ 

Indeed I would not,” Miss Truman re- 
plied, astonished, it may be, at the remark. 

I am not such an advocate of temperance as 
you have the reputation of being ; but I de- 
test drunkenness as much as you can, I 


258 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


always drop a young man from my list of 
acquaintances as soon as I know that he 
drinks to excess. Papa says I am a wonder 
in that respect. He thinks I am hard on the 
poor fellows. But I feel it to be my duty. 
Miss Pease ; and, besides, I am always dis- 
gusted with anything which approaches in- 
toxication. If I were married, and my hus- 
band should come home to me intoxicated, I 
should leave him at once.’’ 

‘‘Then if you were engaged to be married, 
and you found that your lover was in the 
habit of drinking to excess, you would break 
your engagement ? ” 

“I should. Miss Pease. I could not trust 
my happiness in the hands of such a man.” 
And as this was said, the fair, young face 
wore an expression of seriousness far from 
habitual, “I know you must think as I do 
about this.” 

“ I think all which you do, and far more,” 
was the reply. “ I believe the trouble has its 
foundation in fashionable drinking. There 
are many men who cannot drink a single glass 
of wine with safety — men who must choose 
between total abstinence and drunkenness. 
That is a coarse word. Miss Truman; yet it 


WEALTH AND WHS'E. 


259 


fails to express tlie coarseness of the state it 
indicates. Perhaps yon never thought of 
this. I never thought there was any harm in 
the moderate use of wine, until my attention 
was called to it by the history of one of my 
dearest friends. It is too sad for me to 
repeat. Another fact. I was slow to learn 
that when the habit of excessive indulgence 
is fastened upon a man, there is but one way 
in which he can escape from it. He must 
abstain entirely from everything which can 
intoxicate. Not a drop must pass his lips. 
If it does, he must fight over again the battle 
with his appetite. There is Mr. Moulton.” 

Miss Pease! don’t tell me I am to 
blame for his going down. I didn’t think of 
the consequences when I asked him to drink 
wine with me. It was foolish, and I have al- 
ways been sorry. Papa don’t know. If he 
did, he would blame me severely.” 

‘^Not more severely than you must blame 
yourself. Miss Truman. From that evening 
Mr. Moulton returned to his old habits.” 

‘^But it was not such a dreadful thing 
which I did. Miss Pease. My brother would 
not refuse to drink with a lady, and there is 
no danger of his being a drunkard.” 


260 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


‘‘There may not be. He may be one of 
those who can drink moderately all their lives. 
Mr. Moulton was not like him. You did not 
know that.” 

“No, Miss Pease, I never thought of ifc. 
What can I do ? You see I cannot go to him and 
say that I am sorry. That would be improper.” 

“Not half so improper as to offer him 
wine,” was Mabel’s mental reply, which, how- 
ever, she did not express in words. 

“ I am very sorry,” continued Miss Truman. 
“I ought to do something to make amends. 
But papa would think it very strange, if I 
should — try.” This last word was added after 
a long pause. “Please tell me what you 
think I ought to do.” 

“I cannot do that,” was answered gently. 
“If I had a good, wise father, it seems to me 
that I should go to him with all my perplexi- 
ties ; unless I was so happy as to have a 
mother in whose judgment I had more confi- 
dence.” 

Clara Truman was not entirely spoiled. She 
knew that she could expect no help from her 
mother; and, with many misgivings, she ap- 
pealed to her father, who listened patiently to 
her somewhat rambling story. 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


261 


‘‘I have heard of this before ; only I never 
imagined that you were the guilty party,’’ he 
said, with his hand close clasped in that of his 
daughter. It has proved a serious matter to 
Moulton.” 

‘^Yes, papa, and I am so sorry. I never 
thought there was any harm in it.” 

^^Well, pet, don’t cry about it. We will 
see what can be done for him. He ought to 
have had a better command of himself. But 
we must take people as they are, and not as 
they ought to be. I think you overstepped 
the bounds of propriety yourself in doing as 
you did, Clara.” 

I am afraid I did, papa. But you see all 
the rest of us had been drinking wine, while 
Mr. Moulton refused ; and we didn’t fancy his 
being so singular, as though he was better 
than we were. I have seen a great many 
ladies do the same thing which I did, and I 
don’t know as any harm came of it. Foster 
wouldn’t refuse to drink. Why, papa, what 
is it?” exclaimed Clara, interrupting herself, 
as an expression of pain flitted across her 
father’s face. ‘^Are you sick?” 

‘^Ho, pet. It is nothing.” 

‘^But you must tell me, papa. How I have 


263 


WEALTH AHD WIHE. 


confessed everything to you, just as I always 
do. I expected a scolding too. I know I 
deserved it. It can’t be that Foster ever — 
Why, papa, I believe it would kill me, if I 
thought my darling brother would ever be as 
Mr. Moulton is now.” 

^^Mr. Moulton has brothers and sisters, 
who love him as well as you love Foster.” 
* And to think that I am the one who made 
him break his pledge ! What shall I do ? 
What can I do % But, papa, is there anything 
wrong vdth Foster?” 

‘‘1 hope not. Only in these days young 
men often forget that a good servant makes a 
bad master. Used moderately, wine is harm- 
less; used immoderately, it is a curse.” 

^‘Then why don’t we give up drinking 
wine altogether? That would be the safest 
way. There couldn’t be any danger then. 
That is what Mabel Pease says, and I know 
there are a good many other nice people 
who think as she does. Now, papa, let’s you 
and I make a promise, right here, before 
mamma and Foster come home. We might 
put it dov>^n in writing, too, to make sure, 
and then see what will come of it. I think 
that would be making a splendid beginning. 


WEALTH AT>rD WINE. 


263 


I always have a headache the next day after 
a party, and I shouldn’t wonder a bit if it is 
the wine that does it. Perhaps, too, that 
is what makes you look at Foster as you do 
sometimes, as though you were afraid he 
would do something he ought not to. Now, 
papa, you just write a promise all out, and put 
your name first. I am glad I stayed at home 
with you this evening. It is ever so much 
pleasanter than I expected. I thought you 
would shake your head, and put your lips to- 
gether, and scold poor little me.” 

For answer to this rambling talk, Mr. Tru- 
man pressed his lips to the brow of the talker. 
He had not been more unprepared for the con- 
fession she had made than for the proposal 
which followed it. Nestling close to him, she 
waited for him to speak. His daughter was 
now cradled in his arms, but he could not 
always shield her thus. He thought of his 
son, for whom he indulged the most am- 
bitious hopes. His breath came thick and 
fast. Love did not blind him to the faults 
of his son; and, like Clara, he believed it 
would kill him should Foster go wrong. 

Suppose you write the pledge to suit y our- 
self he said at length. You proposed it.” 


264 


WEALTH AND WIIS’E. 


^^Yes, papa; but you must promise not to 
laugh, if it is ever so funny.” 

I am sure no temperance pledge was 
ever prepared with greater care. It was 
written and rewritten until it was pronounced 
perfect. 

don’t think I could possibly improve 
it,” remarked the young lady, who evidently 
considered it above criticism, sign 

it, papa.” 

‘^Kead it first,” was the reply. must 
know what I am signing. It might be a check 
for fifty thousand dollars.” 

Ah ! you loiow better than that. But I 
am willing to read it. You see it is just as 
strong as it can be. I wanted to make it so, 
though it will be pretty hard never to taste a 
single drop of wine again. I do like it with a 
lunch, and. sometimes when I feel blue it 
brightens up everything, so I forget the 
blues.” 

No one else could have persuaded Mr. Tru- 
man to put his name to such a [pledge. He 
was surprised into doing what he had been 
heard to say was a proof of weakness. 

^^Do you know what you have done?” 
he asked, looking into his daughter’s face. 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


265 


^‘You have banished wine from our table 
and our house. If any one asks you to drink 
as you asked Moulton, you must not allow 
yourself to be over-persuaded, as he was. 
Can you keep your pledge?” 

^^Yes, sir. You see it is different with us 
girls. We can have it all our own way, and, 
if we should agree, there isn’t a young man in 
our set who would presume to taste of wine 
in our presence. We could make it so un- 
popular after a while they would be glad to 
give it up entirely. I must tell Winnie Law- 
ton. She must help us about Foster. He 
just worships the ground she treads on, and 
she can be very decided. If she had been 
with me, I don’t believe I should have teazed 
poor Moulton as I did. You find a way to 
help him, won’t you, papa?” 

“I will try.” 

With this assurance Clara Truman was con- 
tent, and, as her father had some writing 
which must be done that evening, she be- 
took herself to a corner, and began to read. 
At least, she seemed to read, although an- at- 
tentive observer would have noticed that no 
leaves of her book were turned. With her 
eyes upon the printed page, she was- thinking 


268 


WEALTH AND AYIHE. 


earnestly of such things as had never before 
claimed her consideration. The world had 
been to her merely a place of enjoyment ; like 
a garden in which the butterfly flits from 
flower to flower, unmindful of the barren 
wastes around, or the chilling blasts of a com- 
ing winter. 

The next morning the young lady brought 
forward her pledge, and, with the utmost con- 
fldence of manner, asked her mother and 
brother to sign it. At first they regarded 
the whole matter as a joke. Later, when they 
found that she was really in earnest, they pro- 
tested against such a quixotic scheme as she 
proposed, and refused to give it their influ- 
ence. 

Mr. Truman said nothing until asked if 
he intended to regard his pledge as binding. 
‘‘Certainly I do,’’ he then replied, and re- 
lapsed into silence. At dinner his intentions 
were fully manifested ; and, as he had expect- 
ed, they met with severe condemnation. 

Clara came to the rescue, and encouraged 
her father by saying that she had obtained 
six new names to her pledge, and should have 
as many more within twenty-four hours, 
adding: “I called upon Mabel Pease to-day. 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


2G7 


and liad a long talk with her about it. I 
think we girls have been very ignorant and 
very mnch to blame ; and so Winnie Lawton 
said just as soon as I told her how it was.’’ 

“ Did she sign your pledge ? ” asked Foster, 
course she did. She is the most de- 
cided of us all. She always perseveres in 
everything she undertakes, too ; and if any 
wine-drinking young man thinks he can win 
her favor, he will find himself mistaken. We 
are not going to make any public demonstra- 
tion, but we shall wear our colors conspicu- 
ously. ” 

The brother heard all this with alfected in- 
difference, and yet every word went home to 
his heart. ^^And you expect the young men 
to follow your lead?” he remarked. 

^‘We expect to lead,” was the laconic re- 

ply- 

Mr. Truman looked at his daughter with 
profound astonishment. He had thought of 
her as a child. She was asserting her posi- 
tion as a woman, and withal so charmingly, 
that her mother, who sincerely regretted 
what she had done, could say nothing more 
severe than to remind her that she was mak- 
ing herself singular. 


2G8 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


‘‘Not very singular, mamma,” was replied. 
“You see I liave Just discovered that drinking 
wine is a very bad thing. It makes drunk- 
ards, and — ” 

“There are plenty of drunkards in the 
world who never tasted of wine. They know 
no more about it than they do of the Helico- 
nian springs ! ” exclaimed Foster Truman, in- 
terrupting his sister unceremoniously. “Do 
you suppose the miserable wretches who are 
up before the police court every morning ever 
drank anything better than Jersey whiskey?” 

“Yes, sir. I know some of them have,” 
answered Clara, and proceeded forthwith to 
substantiate her statement. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


BOTH SIDES OF THE PICTUKE. 

R. ARCHER replied to Mr. War- 
land’s letter to the effect that he 
had no authority over his young 
clerk, and that under no circum- 
stances should he feel justified in making sug- 
gestions which might conflict with the wishes 
of Mrs. Hastings Waiiand. 

But a few weeks after this reply, the gentle- 
man himself appeared, and enquired for his 
nephew. It was long since they had met, yet 
each recognized the other. The elder also re- 
cognized the presence of a spirit he would find 
it hard to subdue. The first greetings were 
followed by some unimportant remarks, when 
the visitor invited his young relative to ac- 
company him to a hotel, where they would 
neither interrupt others nor be themselves in- 
terrupted. 

John readily obtained leave of absence, and 



270 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


was going from tlie store when his employer 
said to him, Remember your mother.” 

Yes, sir, I will,” was replied firmly. 

He was not what his uncle had expected to 
find him. He was well dressed, well bred, and 
thoroughly self-possessed. There was no pov- 
erty to be relieved, no sluggish ambition to be 
stimulated. The nephew was master of the 
situation. 

But Mr. Warland had come with a purpose ; 
more as the agent of another than for himself. 
He had been entrusted with many verbal 
messages, which he faithfully delivered, and 
which were received with a courtesy of manner 
to which no exceptions could be taken, al- 
though they failed to elicit the desired re- 
sponse. 

^‘Aunt Ermengarde and your cousins ex- 
pect you to return with me,” was said at 
length. 

“They are very kind. I remember my 
cousins.” 

“ And they remember you. Ermengarde is 
sure she should recognize you anywhere. She 
bade me tell you that you are doing wrong to 
hold yourself so aloof from the family to 
wlricli you belong.” 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


271 


First of all, I belong to my motlier,” now 
said tlie dutiful son. cannot be separat- 
ed from lier. All that I am which ranks me 
above a street-beggar I owe to my mother 
and her family. In your last letter to me 
you told me that I need expect nothing from 
you, sir.” 

I know it, John. Your persistent refusals 
angered me. But let bygones go. Your mo- 
ther has not the means to do for you what 
we would do.” 

^^She can love me and help me to do my 
duty. What more do I need? I can earn 
money for myself. I want to be a merchant, 
and Mr. Archer will give me a chance to learn 
the business. I have seen the time when we 
almost starved. But now we have a pleasant 
home and kind friends.” 

would have prevented your starving, 
John. I offered to adoj)t you as my own son, 
and educate you. But your father refused 
the offer for you. Now, I am sure he would 
prefer that you should find a home with 
me.” 

‘‘My father has nothing to do with me. I 
don’t know that he is living. I don’t wish 
to know. I have done all for him it was my 


272 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


duty to do. My duty is now to my mo- 
ther.” 

‘^What if you could do more for her by 
leaving her than by remaining with her? I 
will settle an annuity upon her ; if you will 
go with me and consider yourself .under my 
guardianship. ’ ’ 

The hot blood surged to the young man’s 
face, and the dark eyes flashed. His uncle 
hoped that at last his ambition was aroused. 
Judge, then, of this gentleman’s surprise 
when, after a somewhat protracted silence, 
his nephew replied: My mother needs no 
annuity from the Warland family, and I 
need no assistance. Uncle John, you oblige 
me to say what may seem disrespectful. 
Pardon me. There is too much of my 
father’s character in me. I am trying to root 
it out, and I need all my mother’s help. 
You would not have me such a man as the 
brother you disowned?” 

This was not defiance. It was not disre- 
spect. It was simply ah assertion of personal 
dignity which could hardly be expected from 
one so young. It must be remembered, how- 
ever, that the speaker had often revolved in 
his own mind the advantages and disadvan- 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


273 


tages which might result from the arrange- 
ment now so forcibly brought to his con- 
sideration. 

Mr. Warland replied angrily : If I thought 
you would bring disgrace upon our family, 
I would not permit you to cross our thres- 
hold. Your father has brought shame enough 
upon us.” 

‘^Yes, sir. But it is not my fault that I 
am his son. It is my misfortune, not my 
fault. He has been my enemy. It is dread- 
ful to say such things, but it is not half so 
dreadful as to feel them. I could not go 
with you, if I would. My mother is my legal 
guardian, and she would never consent to it. 
My father is a disgrace to me, but I am proud 
of my mother.” 

In a conversation with Mabel Pease, John 
Warland had expressed the hope that he 
might one day have an opportunity to say 
these very words to some member of the War- 
land family. It was so in keeping with what 
had preceded that it was heard with little 
surprise ; and, were the whole truth revealed, 
it would appear that this chivalric defence of 
one whom he was bound to honor really 
raised the young man in his uncle’ s estimation. 


274 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


A fruitless effort, indeed, was tliis visit, 
except as it gave tlie visitor a very definite 
idea of Ms brother’s son. Aunt Ermengarde 
might catechise him as she pleased. Jfephew 
John was worthy of consideration — one of 
whom the family had no reason to be 
ashamed. 

^^He might, at least, be civil,” said his 
Cousin Ermengarde, who had listened with 
interest to the report made by her father. 

^^He was civil,” replied Mr. VVaiiand. 
‘^John is a gentleman in his manners; and 
I must do him the justice to say that I 
pushed him to extremities. You would know 
him for a Waiiand, but there is much of his 
mother about him. It is useless to expect to 
separate them ; and, after all, it may be that 
he is right.” 

^^He might visit us.” 

Yes, he might do that, and I invited him 
to come here at any time. It is doubtful, 
however, if he accepts the invitation.” 

Aunt Ermengarde was seriously displeased. 
Her last hope had failed. She must submit. 
She remembered the beautiful woman her 
nephew had introduced to her as his wife, and 
to wliom she had ever refused her sympathy. 


WEALTH AISTD WIHE. 


275 


Another trial was in store for the young 
man. Another letter was received, and this 
from a stranger, containing a brief description 
of his father’s life during a period of nearly 
two years. This wretched life was drawing to 
a close, and at intervals the sufferer called 
for his son. 

The letter was submitted first to Mabel 
Pease, and then to Mrs. Warland, with the 
question, Shall I go, mother?” 

I wish you to do as your heart dictates,” 
she replied. ^^You must decide for your- 
self.” 

^^Then I shall go,” he responded quickly. 

He was too late. Hastings Warland had 
sunk rapidly at last, with no consciousness 
of the change which awaited him. 

Mrs. Bennett welcomed his son, regarding 
the young man earnestly, as she said: 
trust you came here with the spirit of for- 
giveness in your heart. Your father was fear- 
fully punished for his sins, and the living are 
freed from him. God will deal justly with 
him. For at least five generations the War- 
lands have been hard drinkers. There was 
some excuse for Hastings, bad as he was. I 
have notified his Aunt Ermengarde of 


276 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


his death, and am waiting to hear from 
lier.” 

This was a strange greeting. But the 
speaker was an aged woman, who had a right 
to speak plainly of the family she had so 
faithfully served. As death had but set its 
seal to the separation he had himself desired, 
John could not mourn the loss of his father. 
He might forgive ; but, for his mother’s sake, 
even more than his own, he rejoiced. Yet 
there was an inexpressible sadness in the 
thought that a life God-given had been so 
degraded and debased. 

Mrs. Bennett hoped that Hastings Warland 
would be buried with his fathers, and in this 
she was not disappointed. Mr. Dearbon was 
desired to make all necessary preparations, 
and accompany the body until met by a 
brother of the deceased. The time and place 
of meeting were designated, so there could be 
no misunderstanding. 

After much deliberation, John Warland 
decided to witness the burial of his father, 
and accordingly proceeded with Mr. Dearbon 
until met by his uncle. There was nothing of 
pomp or display connected with this funeral. 
The family vault was opened and the burial- 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


277 


service read, with only the immediate relatives 
in attendance. 

Under these circumstances the young man 
could not refuse to enter his uncle’s house. 
Here he was welcomed cordially ; kind en- 
quiries were made for his mother, and every 
allusion which might lead to discussion or 
disagreement carefully avoided. Aunt Er- 
mengarde pronounced herself satisfied with 
his appearance. Her namesake shared her 
admiration, and all were eager to adopt him 
as their very own. 

Here was wealth, luxury, and elegance 
which he might share if he would. His 
uncle’s wife was gracious and smiling, while 
his cousins insisted, with charming earnest- 
ness, that he must remain indefinitely. 

^^You must just stay, now, and be our 
brother,” said the youngest. “^Ye want a 
brother ever so much, and we want just 
you. We are going to Europe some time, 
and you could go with us. Of course papa 
would take you. Wouldn’t you like to 
go?” 

I should like going to Europe very much.’’ 

^AVell, and don’t you like us?” 

‘Wes, Cousin Bess, I do like you.” 


278 


V/EALTH AND AYINE. 


Ermengarde, tlie eldest, said less than her 
sisters ; yet even she condescended to plead 
the general canse. 

At dinner the young man’ s principles and 
powers of resistance were pnt to the test. 
Wine was placed before him, and its use 
seemed so in accordance with the surround- 
ings, that he was half tempted to drain the 
glass of its sparkling contents. He felt the 
force of a will other than his own constrain- 
ing him, and he knew, if he yielded, he was 
lost. The flavor of the wine sipped in his 
early boyhood was not forgotten, and the dor- 
mant appetite for stimulants proved itself to 
be only biding its time. 

‘^Remember your mother.” The words 
were a talisman. He would not bring dis- 
grace upon her and the dear old grandfather 
who, in a plain, country home, prayed for 
the boy who carried the burden of another’s 
sins. He put aside the tempting cup, and, 
as he did so, his eyes met those of his Cou- 
sin Ermengarde. 

‘^You will drink with me,'’ she said smil- 
ingly. 

“I cannot,” lie replied. “You must ex- 
cuse me. I dare not.” 


WEALTH Al^J) WIHE. 


279 


^MIow now, sir kniglit? You should not 
thus refuse a lady.” 

would refuse my fair cousin no other 
service,” he replied gallantly. am my 
father’s son.” 

Something in his manner awed even the 
laughing girl. He was not one to trifle with 
a serious subject ; and the question of absti- 
nence or indulgence was to him most serious. 

Later, alone with his Aunt Ermengarde, he 
was forced again to assert himself. She re- 
ferred to her rapidly-accumulating wealth, 
and the fact that within a few years it must 
jDass to other hands. Theirs was an old 
family, which she trusted would hold an 
honored place in the generations to come. 

John was not especially interested. He 
listened with respectful attention, but his 
thoughts were with his mother, true-hearted 
and noble. 

^‘"\Vill nothing induce you to come and 
dwell with us?” at length asked the stately 
woman. 

cannot come,” was replied. 

One question more : ^^If you were mother- 
less, would you come to us then?” 

Pardon me, but I could not. I need to 


280 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


learn self-restraint, and this is no place to 
learn that.” 

“ Come here,” said the lady, extending her 
hand. 

He knelt at her feet, and with the small, 
white hand, upon which stUl flashed the 
diamond seal of betrothal and of marriage, she 
swept back the hair from his unturned brow. 

“ So you think this a place for self-indul- 
gence?” 

“It seems so to me. Aunt Ermengarde. I 
am afraid I should grow to be like my father 
here.” 

“Then God forbid that you should come. 
Your father was my favorite nephew, and 
you must not forget me. We cannot afford 
to lose you as we lost him.” 

John Warland resumed his seat. His 
hostess summoned a servant, and ordered 
wine to be brought. A slight hesitation 
caused the order to be repeated in a most 
peremptory tone, when it was obeyed and 
the attendant dismissed. 

Mrs. Ermengarde Warland herself poured 
out the rich red wine, offering one glass 
to her companion, while she raised the other 
to her lips. 


WEALTH AISTD WINE. 


281 


Excuse me,” said the young man, taking 
the glass from her hand, and replacing it upon 
the table. She seemed hardly to observe this. 
Indeed, she had no sooner drained one glass 
than she seized the other, and drank its con- 
tents eagerly. 

Again they were filled, and again drained, 
while John looked on with strange surprise. 
Yet again, and he was about to remonstrate, 
when an elderly woman, whom he had not 
before seen, entered the room. Decanter and 
glasses were quickly removed without a word 
being spoken until the guest rose to leave. 

‘^Good-evening, Aunt Ermengarde,” he 
then said courteously. 

In response, he heard but a muttered sound. 
The wine had taken effect. The possessor of 
an immense fortune, of which she had spoken 
so proudly ; the mistress of a home adorned 
with all which wealth could command or taste 
suggest, was as absolutely intoxicated as her 
nephew had ever been. The woman with 
scanty garments and pinched, starved face, 
who spends her last penny for the fiery 
draught which makes her forget her pov- 
erty, is not more a slave to the demon of the 
still than was this woman, whose silken robe 


282 


WEALTH AND WIND. 


trailed heavily upon the softest of carpets, 
and whose jewels were in themselves a dower 
of wealth. 

No marvel that to her yonng relative all 
her pride of name and lineage seemed but 
mockery. No marvel that, in the light of this 
new revelation, he felt himself doubly cursed 
by the blood in his veins. 

He longed to rush from the house, and was 
only restrained from doing this by its incivili- 
ty. He spent the remainder of the evening 
with his cousins ; but the charm of their socie- 
ty was broken. He was thankful when the 
hour arrived for his departure the following 
morning, and hailed with delight each way- 
mark on his homeward journey. 

O mother ! I never knew before how much 
I owe to you,” he exclaimed, as he embraced 
her with demonstrative affection. ‘‘1 would 
live in a garret with you, rather than in a 
palace with any other of my name. Mother, 
I wish our names were changed.” And hav- 
ing said this, he burst into tears. 

Are you sorry you went to your uncle’s ? ” 
she asked after the lapse of some minutes. 

^^No, mother,” he answered, stifling his 
sobs. “It was better that I should see both 


WEALTH AND WII^E. 


283 


sides of the picture. I don’t blame my father 
so much now. The love of the poison stuff 
must have been born with him. Mother ! 
mother ! it is dreadful. Why, even Aunt 
Ermengarde is a drunkard.” 

Few knew this save her attendants, who 
were bribed to conceal the fact, and as much 
as possible avert its consequences. It was not 
often that she could, by any artifice, obtain 
the means of immoderate indulgence. Her 
pride was her safeguard against public exhibi- 
tions of her weakness. Others, equally high 
born and delicately bred as herself, might con- 
descend to enter places of common resort, and 
there drink to intoxication. But she would 
not do this. To a certain extent she sub- 
mitted to the restraint imposed upon her in 
this matter ; yet, despite all, she would some- 
times reach a state of beastly intoxication. 

Her life had been darkened by a fearful 
sorrow. She lacked the stimulus of necessity 
in applying herself to any pursuit. From 
taking wine socially and as a prescribed 
tonic, it was easy for one with her boasted 
ancestry to acquire the habit of shameful in- 
dulgence. 

Mrs. Bennett had not suspected this infirm- 


284 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


ity on the part of her former mistress; and 
it would not have been revealed to the nephew 
had not an unusually protracted abstinence 
made the demands of appetite too importu- 
nate to be resisted. 

Had she been alone, no wine would have 
been brought to her. Having a guest, her 
order was obeyed and her weakness exposed. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


MAKma AMEISTDS. 

MOXG the legal firms of the city 
appeared, not new names, but old 
names in new relations. Horace 
Hilton and Wintlirop Hayes formed 
a copartnership for the transaction of all 
business connected with their profession. It 
was a strong combination of talent and in- 
dustry, each supplementing the other, and 
both worthy of confidence. 

Wintlirop Hayes had taken the last deci- 
sive step towards complete success— a step at 
which those who knew him best wondered 
still more than at the sudden reform of his 
habits. From the moment he entered Horace 
Hilton’s office he had ever present with him 
the example of a consistent Christian ; and 
often reminded as he was of his entire depen- 
dence upon Grod, he came at length to recog- 
nize the grand truth that from Grod comes 
every good and perfect gift. 

283 



286 


WEALTH AHD WIHE. 


He liad not been religionsly educated. Nei- 
ther was lie a sceptic. Perhaps it would be 
too much to say that he had never thought of 
his relations to the Creator of the universe ; 
but so far as his conduct was a manifestation 
of his thoughts, these relations were utterly 
ignored. He was one of a large class of men 
who pride themselves upon their superiority 
to the prejudices and superstitions of ordinary 
minds ; and, with far less of consideration than 
they would give to the merits of a new opera, 
dismiss the momentous questions upon which 
depend their eternal interests. 

His reticence was so great that not even Mr. 
Hilton suspected the mental conflict which 
for months held him in a state of unrest and 
disquiet. If he could have avoided this con- 
flict, he would have done so gladly. If he 
could have silenced the voice of conscience, he 
would have counted himself happy. He 
could do neither. There remained but the 
alternative of unconditional surrender to the 
authority which claimed his allegiance. With 
many a struggle, his false pride and self-suffi- 
ciency yielded ; and, like a child, he was ready 
to confess his sins and ask forgiveness. Then, 
new-born, rejoicing in the peace and gladness 


WEALTH AHD WIHE. 


287 


wMcli had come to him, it was no cross to 
assume the vows which bound him to a life- 
long service of the Divine Master. 

Mrs. Archer would not express her secret 
thoughts, as she sat among the congregation 
which witnessed the avowal of her nephew’s 
faith ; yet she felt that he had gone quite 
too far in what was really praiseworthy. 
He might have lived well enough without 
making himself so conspicuous. It was quite 
the proper thing for Horace Hilton, whose 
whole character was in keeping with pro- 
nounced creeds ; but for one like Winthrop 
Hayes so to bind himself seemed unnatural. 

Not long after this event, which occurred 
within a few days of the announcement of the 
new legal firm, Mrs. Waters was spending an 
hour with Mabel Pease, when she said with 
some hesitation : I suppose your friends may 
expect soon to congratulate you.” 

‘‘ Congratulate me ! Why ? ” 

Pardon me, if I seem intrusive,” respond- 
ed the visitor to these exclamations. ^^We 
expect to congratulate you upon your ap- 
proaching marriage. ’ ’ 

‘'There is no occasion for such congratula- 
tions,” said Mabel decidedly. 


288 


WEALTH AKD WINE. 


‘"Are you offended with me?” asked Mrs. 
Waters. 

“By no means,” replied her friend. “I 
should be often offended, if such a trifle could 
annoy me. I am under no engagement of 
marriage, and, so far as I know, am likely 
to remain Mabel Pease to the end of the 
chapter.” 

“ But I supposed — I have been told — every- 
body thinks — ” 

“Well, Mrs. Waters, do please complete 
your sentences. My curiosity is excited, and 
I promise to absolve you for all offences.” 

“ Then may I tell you frankly ? ” 

“ Certainly. My friends are accustomed to 
talk plainly to me, and I in turn talk plainly 
to them.” 

“ Well, then. Miss Pease, it has been gen- 
erally understood that Mr. Hayes was on pro- 
bation ; and that, if he relinquished his habits 
of dissipation, and proved himself worthy of 
you, you would accept him as your husband. 
'Now that he has won the respect of the com- 
munity, both for his talents and the strength 
of his moral purpose, I supposed your mar- 
riage would follow as a matter of course.” 

“I thank you for telling me this, Mrs. Wa- 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


289 


ters. At tlie same time, I assure you tliat it 
is utterly false. No one lias rejoiced more 
heartily than I in the changed position and 
prospects of Mr. Hayes ; and my heart was 
filled with thankfulness when he came for- 
ward as a Christian. But there was never 
any engagement of marriage between us. If 
he has been on probation, it is not to me that 
he must give account. If I had any infiu- 
ence in effecting his reform, it was in the same 
way I have tried to reform others ; and except 
as we had been thrown much together at Mr. 
Archer’s, I had no reason to count upon him 
more than upon others. For his sake I regret 
the misunderstanding. Were it true that our 
marriage depended upon his reform, the fact 
would never have transpired. My lips would 
have been sealed. Do Mr. Hayes the justice 
to believe that in himself and for himself he 
cast aside the past, and reached forward to a 
future of grand endeavor. He has proved 
himself worthy of respect, and I am glad to 
number him among my friends.” 

Mrs. Waters’s brother hesitated to congratu- 
late his partner upon what he supposed to be 
an assured fact. Winthrop Hayes allowed no 
one to intrude upon his privacy, and Mr. Hil- 


290 


WEALTH AHD WINE. 


ton was too thoroughly a gentleman to seek 
the confidence which was not freely given. 
Appearances seemed to corroborate the reports 
he had heard, and he regarded Miss Pease as 
the future wife of his friend and associate. 

His acquaintance with the young lady had 
been confined to the day at the sea- shore and 
an occasional call at her own house. His 
sister said he was too much engrossed in busi- 
ness to care for society. She complained 
that he visited her so little ; but his mother 
had no reason to complain of his neglect. 
Since his dying father said to him, Horace, 
be good to your mother,’’ she had been his 
especial care. 

She was not a woman of culture, in the 
ordinary acceptation of that term. Yet she 
had a large, loving heart, and an intellect 
which needed only the discipline of study to 
have placed her in the front rank of scholar- 
ship. In her younger days she hardly 
thought of what was thus denied her. 'Now 
she realized in her son all which she herself 
might have been, nor grudged the dower she 
had bestowed upon him. 

Winthrop Hayes first saw her soon after he 
entered the office as a worker, and, contrasting 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


291 


her with many of the women he had met in 
fashionable society, did not wonder that her 
children regarded her with something like 
reverence. 

She was not aged or broken in health, not- 
withstanding so mnch of her life had been 
spent in hard labor. But a score of years the 
senior of Horace, her eldest child, she might, 
at the age of fifty-two, be mistaken for his 
sister. She had toiled for him. He delighted 
to surround her with comforts and luxuries 
to which she had before been unused. It was 
no longer necessary that she should deny 
herself the privileges of leisure. 

cannot have my children ashamed of 
me,” she once said when a friend expressed 
surprise that she should attempt the perusal 
of some voluminous work. It was always a 
treat to me when I could get away by my- 
self, and read some interesting book. I^ow, 
when books are all around me, and I have the 
time on my hands, I cannot help reading.” 

Hugh Waters was proud to call her mother ; 
and few who saw her failed to recognize the 
inherent nobility of her nature. With her, 
her son could hardly be lonely, even after 
his sister had left them. 


292 


WEALTH AHD WIISTE. 


For liimself, if lie dreamed of tlie time wlien 
a younger woman would sit beside liim, and, 
looking into liis face, read there the confirma- 
tion of a love which was to her a crown of 
rejoicing, he bided his time without sign or 
utterance. His habits of close application 
had not detracted from his social qualities ; 
although as yet these qualities were appreci- 
ated by comparatively few. 

There were poor women who blessed his 
name ; young men who thanked God for such 
a friend ; and children who sprang eagerly to 
meet him whenever they heard the sound of 
his footsteps. He was strong and courageous. 
His faith never faltered ; and to those whom 
he sought to benefit he imparted something of 
his own brave spirit. 

Jeff Moulton was a stranger, yet none the 
less was he interested in the unfortunate 
man. When consulted by his partner, he said 
at once that a place must be found where 
congenial labor would give exercise for the 
body, and furnish a stimulus to healthy 
thought. How this situation could be gained 
was the question under consideration, when 
Mr. Truman appeared, and offered Jeff Moul- 
ton a position at once lucrative and responsible. 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


293 


sliall expect you to do well,” lie said 
confidently. know you have been unfor- 
tunate. But there is plenty of time for you 
to redeem your fortune and your reputation. 
Most of us have been doing wrong in drinking 
wine, and the best we can do now is to reform. 
1 have signed a pledge of total abstinence, 
and I hope you are ready to do the same.” 
have broken one pledge,” was the 

reply. 

know about that, Moulton. Clara has 
confessed all to me, and she knows that she 
was more in fault than you. You were 
strongly tempted. My Clara could persuade 
me to almost anything. I don’t think there 
is another person in the world who could 
have persuaded me to sign such a straight- 
out pledge as she drew up. She says I must 
make amends forher fault.” 

Thank you, Mr. Truman. But I was 
myself to blame. No ordinary temptation 
could have made me break my pledge ; but a 
man ought to resist all temptations. I am 
ready to renew the pledge, and, God helping 
me, I will keep it to the end.” 

People wondered that one who had fallen 
so low could so soon regain firm standing. 


294 


WEALTH WIXE. 


Foster Truman tliouglit Ms fatlier liad acted 
most unwisely, and expressed Ms opinion with 
unequivocal frankness. 

“I never heard any one question Moulton’s 
ability or honesty,” remarked Mr. Truman 
when the subject was under discussion. 

‘^Neither did I,” was replied. Yet every- 
body knows that a man who drinks to excess 
is never reliable.” 

^^What is excess, Foster ? How much may 
a man drink with safety ? How much may a 
man drink for his own best good and the 
good of those who love him?” 

‘^That depends upon circumstances,” hesi- 
tatingly replied the young man. ^^Each one 
must judge for himself.’' 

^^How much can yoic drink, Foster?” An 
angry flush gave token of the spirit which had 
been aroused ; when the father added firmly, 

I have a right to ask you that question. 
There is no one who loves you belter than I do, 
my son ; no one who is a truer friend to you. 
/have been wrong. It seems to me, now that 
^y^s are open, we have all been wrong. 
W ould you be willing that Clara should drink 
as much wine from day to day as you drink ? 
Would you marry a young lady with no purer 


WEALTH AHD WIKE. 


295 


record than you could show were your pri- 
vate life fully revealed? How much better 
are you than Moulton?’’ 

Sharp, incisive questions were these, asked 
not one hour too soon, and answered by si- 
lence rather than words. Yet as often as con- 
science repeated them, so often was* Foster 
Truman brought face to face with unforgotten, 
secret sins. The pledge was constantly be- 
fore him. It was the theme of conversation at 
home and abroad, until at length, ‘Hn sheer 
desperation,” as he laughingly said, he added 
his name to ^^the sacred list.” For this 
worthy act he received due credit when next 
he saw Winnie Lawton, who expressed her 
pleasure so heartily that he ventured to ask 
her lifelong assistance in keeping the pledge 
he had taken. 

The two-score names now enrolled represent- 
ed only so many individuals — few indeed, 
compared with the throng which stayed not to 
count the cost of their indulgence. Families 
would continue to transmit the hereditary 
curse, and one generation after another be 
hurried to untimely and dishonored graves. 
But if here and there one could be found to 
enlist on the side of purity, much would be 


296 


WExiLTII AND WINE. 


gained. If from some homes the tempter 
could be banished, there might be an immense 
gain to the world. It is thus reforms are car- 
ried ; and thus, if at all, the great mass of 
mankind will be redeemed from the thraldom 
of sin. 

The example of one earnest worker will in- 
spire others. The words of one earnest 
speaker will thrill the hearts of those who 
listen, and so call forth responsive words. 
One woman cannot do much alone, but one 
woman can attract others, who, sharing her 
spirit, can each in turn attract other workers, 
and so the circle widens until it reaches the 
outermost verge of society. 

Mabel Pease was doing what she could in a 
quiet way ; and so long as John Waiiand and 
his mother shared her home, she was not 
likely to relax her efforts in the good cause. 
A sorrowful look or a chance expression 
would remind her of all the past, and chal- 
lenge her to renewed interest. John confided 
to her his troubles, speaking even more free- 
ly than to his mother of his visit to the old 
family mansion. From her he did not care to 
conceal the fact that the luxury and elegance 
there seen had appealed strongly to his natu- 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


297 


ral tastes, and that liis own instincts had warn- 
ed him he was treading npon dangerous ground. 

don’t wonder so much that my father 
was a drunkard,” he once said. ‘‘I only 
wonder how any one can drink moderately 
year after year. I could not do it. I should 
never know Avhere to stop.” 

‘^You must stop before you begin. There 
are thousands, and perhaps millions, in the 
same condition that you are. It is said that 
there are few drunkards in the present 
generation whose parents did not use alco- 
holic drinks more or less immoderately. The 
next generation must bear the sins of the pre- 
sent, until somewhere humanity marshals its 
forces to regain what has been lost. You 
must fight a good fight, John, and so come oflE 
conqueror.” 

am trying,” he replied in a discouraged 
tone. But the enemy is always at hand. I 
can never be off my guard. It is dreadful.” 

‘‘Why is it dreadful?” asked Mabel cheer- 
fully. “ It is not such a dreadful thing that sin 
must be punished. You are only not to touch 
or taste the poison stuff ; and this abstinence 
is the ovAj positive safety for any one. You 
are morbid about this.” 


298 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


“Perhaps I am, Cousin Mabel. But you 
wouldn’ t wonder at that, if you had the W ar- 
land blood in your veins. I never quite real- 
ized my misfortune until I saw Aunt Ermen- 
garde drink six glasses of wine, hardly 
stopping to take breath. I wish I could 
change my name,” added John passionately. 
“I wish it was Bedlow instead of Warland. 
Raleigh is such a splendid fellow. Don’t you 
think he is handsome. Cousin Mabel!” 

“I do ; and just now I would give a great 
deal for the sight of his bright, handsome face. 
I think I must make a visit to the old farm. 
Your mother and you can keep the fires burn- 
ing here while I go there. If our cousins are 
too busy to come to us, we must go to 
them.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

NOT A PKIMA DONNA. 

ASTIXGS WARLAXD had been 
dead two months when Mabel 
Pease entered the then iintenanted 
cottage he had once called home. 

The desolate rooms offered accommoda- 
tions for a family of moderate size. Out- 
side, the trees stood like sentinels, grim and 
tall, waiting for the command to unfurl their 
myriads of tiny banners. When a few more 
suns should lighten and brighten, the grass 
would be upspringing, while buds would 
unfold, and the whole landscape glow with 
beauty. 

In the large cities there were families starv- 
ing in crowded tenement-houses ; children 
growing up with never a sight of green fields 
or lavish wealth of fiowers. From the tens of 
thousands one family would not be missed ; 

299 



300 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


yet tliis was no reason wliy comfort and liap- 
piness should be denied to the one. 

This visit of Mabel Pease to her friends was 
not merely one of pleasure. She had a plan 
to propose which she hoped would prove 
acceptable to those most interested. She first 
consulted Grrandfather Bedlow. Raleigh was 
to be educated. Another man could take his 
place on the farm ; but no other could take 
his place in the world of intellect and cul- 
ture. 

‘^Pve seen it all along,” said the old man 
when Mabel paused for a reply to her words. 
‘‘ Pve seen it,” he repeated. always knew 
the boy was a good scholar. So was his 
father before him. I an’t going to stand in 
his way. I’ve most done ; and if it’ s best for 
Raleigh to leave the old farm, I sha’n’t hold 
him back. He’s a good boy.” 

Yes, grandfather, and he is a great deal 
more than a good boy. There is the making 
of a grand man in that well- shaped head 
of his.” 

Yes, child, I see it all. Oliver took after 
his mother more than he did after me, and 
Raleigh’s like him. My wife could always 
see things quicker’ n I could, and I depended 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


301 


on her. Ealeigli’ s got a good many of her 
ways — more than any of the others have ; 
and perhaps that’s what makes him seem so 
near to me. If he can do better than to stay 
here, I want him to. But, Mabel, you’ll be 
doing too much to furnish him with money.” 

‘^Aunt Martha’s money is to be his por- 
tion,” was the quick reply. ‘^That was in- 
vested by itself, and Mr. Archer managed it 
so well that it has more than doubled. The 
income will be sufficient for Raleigh’s ex- 
penses, and I am sure Aunt Martha would 
like to have it spent in that way. Then you 
know, as I told you, I have a family to 
occupy the cottage, and the boys of the family 
will soon be able to do the farm- work. Ra- 
leigh can find time to look a-fter them and 
oversee things generally. I am sure he can do 
that without interfering with his studies.” 

The boy finds time for most everything,” 
responded his grandfather. ^^Last winter 
folks said he kept the best school there was in 
town ; and, besides that, he kept the work 
right along here at home. Then he studied, 
seemed to me, pretty much all the time 
evenings. Them books you sent him were all 
read through ; and some way the rest of us 


302 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


got interested in them. You and Raleigh can 
settle the matter just as you think best. I 
sha’n’t live to see it ; but if he makes a great 
scholar, I hope he’ll do good according to his 
learning. You’ve done a good work for us 
all, Mabel. God bless you ! ’ ’ 

The old man leaned his head upon his cane, 
and closed his eyes, when Mabel Pease went 
out softly, leaving him with God and his own 
thoughts. 

Mrs. Bedlow said even less than had her father 
in regard to the proposed arrangement. She 
was willing to abide the decision of her son. 
Raleigh, who was enjoined to silence until he 
had heard every detail of the plan, so far as 
it could be perfected without his co-opera- 
tion, listened with varying emotions. ^ ‘ Can I 
speak now ? ” he asked, as his cousin acknow- 
ledged that she could go no further. 

^^Yes, if you speak rightly,” she replied. 

Don’t refuse Aunt Martha’s money. It will 
be one of the greatest disappointments of my 
life, if you do. I know you would be a hap- 
pier man for being educated.” 

know I should,” he answered quickly. 
‘‘1 have intended to be an educated man. 
But I expected to get my education at odd 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


303 


times. I could do it, and still keep things 
along here at home. Yet I should be thank- 
ful to take a regular course at school and in 
college. I must talk with grandfather and 
mother before I can say more than this, ex- 
cept to tell you that I fully appreciate your 
kindness.” 

After consulting these two, he was able to 
speak decidedly. He would accept such as- 
sistance as was necessary, with the under- 
standing that the full amount, with interest, 
should be repaid at some future time. Mean- 
while, he was to depend upon himself so far 
as possible. Mabel objected to these condi- 
tions ; but, finding that she could not set them 
aside, submitted with the best grace she could 
command, and proceeded to carry out her 
own part of the programme. 

Mrs. Warland, who from the first had lent 
her assistance, superintended the removal of 
the family which was to occupy the little cot- 
tage. There was a widowed mother from one 
of the rural districts of England, with three 
sturdy boys, and a baby girl as sweet and, win- 
some as ever reigned the queen of a household. 
This family had been found living, or rather 
starving, in a damp, unhealthy cellar; and 


304 


WEALTH AND WI^^^E. 


after having once visited them, Miss Pease did 
not relax in her efforts to do them good nntil 
she saw them settled in her country home. 

The children shouted for joy. The boys 
were ready for whatever work might offer, if 
they could only breathe the pure, fresh air, 
and look out upon the verdant landscape. 
Mrs. Hathway said she could take a turn in 
the field when work crowded, so Raleigh 
would need to look no further for help. 

Old Dr. Saunders came over as soon as he 
knew of Mabel’s arrival. She was a favorite 
of his, and, moreover, he wished to enquire 
particularly for Mrs. Warland and her 
son. 

Things have turned out all right,” he said 
heartily. ‘^When the Lord took Hastings 
Warland out of the world, I knew Jane would 
feel as though she was really free. Now, if 
John does well — and I believe he will — the 
best of her life is to come.” 

think it may be so,” replied her friend. 
‘^She is very cheerful. It seems to me that 
she grows younger every day. I am sure that 
she is handsomer than she was six months 
ago. John is in love with her.” 

‘^That is a blessed thing for them both. It 


WEALTH ANJy WINE. 


305 


will save Jolin, and make up to liis mother for 
a good deal she has lost.’’ 

The doctor’ s second visit was made after he 
had heard of Raleigh’s changed prospects. 

Grlad of it, my boy ! Glad of it ! ” he exclaim- 
ed. “Your grandfather and I shall live to 
congratulate you. I never thought as you 
could be spared from home. But we old folks 
don’t always know. Ah ! neighbor Bedlow, we 
shall have to quicken our steps, if we’re going 
to keep up with the youngsters. I tell George 
sometimes, that, old as he is, he goes so fast 
I most lose sight of him. We’re expecting 
George to come home for a day or two pretty 
soon. His mother wants to see him, and he 
always comes when she writes for him, if he 
can possibly leave his patients.” 

George Saunders was a dutiful, affectionate 
son ; more considerate, perhaps, of his mother 
than he would have been had wife and chil- 
dren divided his attention. He came, as his 
father expected, and, by invitation, visited 
his old friend, Mr. Bedlow. Mabel was glad to 
meet him again, finding him even more agree- 
able than in their first unceremonious inter- 
view. When they parted, he had received a 
coi'dial assurance of welcome to her own home. 


306 


•WEALTH AND WIIS^E. 


With the long summer days came Mrs. 
Waiiand and her son to her father’s house. 
To that father she was almost the very same 
she had been in the old, old days. Her mu- 
sical laugh was often heard with scarce an 
undertone of sadness. She sang the very 
songs of her girlhood. 

^‘Jane is young again,” said good Dr. 
Saunders to his friend, as they watched her 
coming from the field, rake in hand, her 
beautiful face flushed with the exercise she 
had so much enjoyed. 

^^It does my old eyes good to see her so 
happy,” responded her father. John is a 
good boy too. I am almost done worrying 
about him. Raleigh says there’s no need of 
it, and Raleigh knows. It’s hard for me to 
let that boy go, doctor. He’s the very light 
of my eyes. But the Hathway boys do well 
on the farm, and I’m going to trust for the 
future. The way we’ve been led the last three 
years is wonderful.” 

^ ‘ God’ s ways are past finding out. It’ s hard 
sometimes to submit ; but you and I, friend 
Bedlow, have had just the discipline we 
needed.” 

Yes, yes, I know it, and may be tiiere's 


WEALTH AHD WINE. 


307 


more to come. But if it please God, I pray it 
may come in some otlier way tlian tlirougli 
tlie ruin of any of my family. We’re going 
to liave them all here before Jane goes back. 
I expect some of them will blame Raleigh for 
thinking of going away from home ; but he 
won’t mind it.” 

No more did he. He was able to defend 
himself and make good his promises that the 
old farm should not suffer from neglect. Mrs. 
Hathway and her children were ready to as- 
sist him in every possible manner. The avo- 
man had a practical knowledge of dairy- farm- 
ing, and ventured to make some suggestions 
which commended themselves as worthy of 
consideration. Accustomed to frugal living, 
she utilized many things which had been con- 
sidered useless; and, altogether, she was a 
valuable acquisition to the Bedlows. 

Mabel Pease was gratified with the success 
of her plan thus far. Often disappointed, as 
one must be who seeks the good of others, 
here was compensation for many failures. 

Half -mockingly Mrs. Archer sometimes ad- 
dressed her as an ^^odd philanthropist”; yet 
this lady knew that, with each year, she be- 
came more attractive and more worthy of re- 


308 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


spect. She was able to choose her friends, 
and she chose them wisely. Mrs. AVarland was 
a companion of whom she never tired. John 
was intelligent, ambitions, and reliable. 

From the yonng Italian girl, whose expenses 
she in part defrayed, were received the mos»t 
favorable reports. Tessa had won the love of 
her teachers and associates ; and as she was 
happy in her new home, she remained there 
two years before visiting the city where she 
had been a street-singer. 

Miss Pease had seen her during this time, 
but to her other friends she was quite a 
stranger. Her dark, liquid eyes and musical 
voice were the same which had attracted Win- 
throp Hayes when he beckoned her to his 
window to receive his careless gifts. But she 
was no longer a child. She was a woman, 
with sweet, womanly grace — a heaictifid wo- 
man, all unconscious of the spell her beauty 
might weave. 

Her dark, sad experience had early deve- 
loped the strongest emotions of her nature. 
She realized her- obligations to those who had 
so kindly cared for her, and resolved no longer 
to depend upon others for her daily bread. 
She could provide for herself, as she said ah 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


309 


most passionately when conversing with her 
hostess. Don’t try to persuade me, Miss 
Pease,” she added. “1 cannot longer live 
upon the bounty of my friends.” 

Mrs. Maitland exclaimed in surprise at sight 
of Tessa, who presented herself unannounced 
in the familiar rooms. The children of this 
family, too, had changed. But they had not 
kept pace with her in mental development ; 
and only when she sang, could they realize 
that she was the poor Italian girl who had 
come to them starving and friendless. 

To the kind woman who had cared for her 
in those terrible days she now told all her 
perplexities and resolves. She had already 
learned so much, that Miss Dennen would give 
her board and tuition for teaching some young 
children who came to the house as day scho- 
lars. Besides, a gentleman, who had heard 
her sing, assured her that she might earn a 
good salary by singing in church. She had 
taken some lessons on the piano, and wished 
now to obtain a thorough musical education. 

Mrs. Maitland listened to all this. But what 
could she do? She had been wise in caring 
for the child. She hardly comprehended the 
needs of the young lady. She did appreciate, 


310 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


liowever, tlie natural longing for fatlierlancl 
when Tessa said, If I can learn so that I can 
sing anywhere, I can see dear Italy again.” 

This young lady had been invited to siiend 
a vacation in the home of Mabel Pease, where 
others interested could meet her, and where 
she was a most welcome guest. 

Mrs. Waters found it difficult to refrain 
from expressing her admiration of the beau- 
tiful girl, who was introduced to her as Miss 
Gavazzi. From this interview she went to her 
mother’ s, and there repaid herself for previous 
silence. Mrs. HUton listened to her rhapsody 
with an amused smile until, when an assertion 
seemed entirely extravagant, she uttered a 
word of remonstrance. 

^^I only wish you could see her,” was the 
reply. ^‘If she doesn’t go back to school, you 
might invite her here to spend a few weeks 
with you, unless you are afraid Horace will 
fall in love with her.” 

^^I should have no fears of that,” said the 
mother confidently. ‘‘1 trust he is too sen- 
sible to be captivated by a pretty face. But I 
will see Tessa for myself. She may not seem 
to me as she does to you.” 

After you have seen her, you will never 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


311 


think of calling her pretty. That adjective 
does not describe her face at all.” 

It needed but a glance to confirm this state- 
ment. Mrs. Hilton acknowledged that her 
daughter had spoken advisedly, and, had she 
been questioned, she must have pleaded guilty 
to being herself captivated. 

Tessa Gravazzi soon made an engagement to 
sing for a few Sabbaths, at a rate of compen- 
sation which would once have seemed to her 
munificent. But this was only temporary, 
and she had need of much practice under 
skilled masters, if she would attain the posi- 
tion she coveted. 

Her friends agreed with her in thinking that 
her future life lay clearly defined before her ; 
that one career was open to her ; and that to 
excel in this should be her first, grand object. 
There was not a dissenting voice. Mrs. Hilton 
said there was no mistaking the leadings of 
Providence in her case. Winthrop Hayes, 
who had been absent from the city for several 
days, alone remained to be consulted ; but no 
one doubted that he would coincide with the 
opinions of others, and give himself no further 
trouble in the matter. 

At length he returned, and, before seeing 


312 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


Tessa, listened wliile she sang a familiar ah 
which had been a favorite in his idle days. 
The song ceased, and he entered the room, 
where the singer was sitting at the piano. He 
pronounced her name. She sprang to her feet, 
responding to his call, as she had been wont 
to do when he seemed to her an angel of 
mercy. She was very grateful. He was fas- 
cinated. Here was one who regarded him as 
faultless. 

He did not seek to entertain her. He only 
cared to hear the music of her voice. When 
Mrs. Waiiand and Miss Pease came in, he 
exerted himself to appear as usual; but it 
was evident that his thoughts were wholly 
given to the young Italian girl. 

He had left, and Tessa had retired, when 
Mrs. Waiiand said: ‘^Our plans will be de- 
feated. Mr. Hayes will object to a new prima 
donna.” 

‘^Why?” asked Mabel. 1 think he will 
second our plans. I am sure he is pleased 
with Tessa.” 

And therefore I think he will object to 
her coming before the public as a singer. But 
I may be . mistaken. We shall see.” 

Why, mother, you don’t think Tessa 


WEALTH AND WI:N^E. 


313 


would many such an old man,” now exclaim- 
ed John, who was quick to divine the meaning 
of the words just spoken. ^^Mr. Hayes is old 
enough to be her father.” 

He would have been a very young father,” 
was the reply. ^‘Mr. Hayes is an attractive 
man.” 

^‘And people say he is to marry Cousin 
Mabel.” 

Which you know is not true, John.” 

Mrs. Waiiand may have had an object in 
thus speaking ; and events soon proved that 
she had judged aright. Winthrop Hayes 
thought Tessa should be educated as other 
young ladies were educated, and proposed to 
convince her of the propriety of this. If he 
found her obstinately bent upon a public ca- 
reer, he would then withdraw his objections, 
and do what he could to assist her. 

He had no intention of playing the part of 
a lover. But the interview he sought was de- 
cisive ; and when he found that one so pure 
and beautiful would gladly give her life into 
his keeping, he did not regret the passionate 
avowal of a love he had before hardly sus- 
pected. In her simplicity, Tessa did not care 
that she should now be wholly dependent up- 


314 


WEALTH AND WIIN’E. 


on liim. Her ambitions dreams faded. Slie 
was content to be and do wliat lie desired. 

Mr. Hayes did not leave to lier the task of 
annonncing this change in her prospects. He 
went first to Mabel Pease, and, by her ready 
tact, was relieved of all embarrassment, as she 
said cordially : ‘‘1 congratulate you. I shall 
congratulate her also ; and you both have my 
best wishes for your happiness. She will 
make a noble woman, and you are worthy of 
her.’’ 

‘ ^ But for you I should not have been wor- 
thy,” he answered. believe, Mabel, that 
there was not another person in the world 
who would have set my sins before me as you 
did, and I thank you for it a thousand times. 
Then you have given me the support of your 
friendship, and that has been a treasure to 
me. But I have never been so conceited as to 
suppose that you would change a decision 
you assured me was final.” 

^^The decision was as wise for you as for 
me,” she replied with characteristic frankness. 
‘^My opinions are my heritage, and I cannot 
yield them. Tessa will worship you, and you 
will count her happiness above your own.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

TIIEEE WEDDIlSrGS. 

EOPLE had thought Dr. George 
Saunders so wedded to his profes- 
sion that he would care for no other 
ties. But, to the surprise of his nu- 
merous friends, he married a beautiful woman, 
and brought her to preside over his home. 

Many were familiar with her name, and a 
few knew something of her history ; yet 
not one could know how much of happiness 
this marriage promised. In the old home 
were pronounced the vows which linked to- 
gether two lives an untoward fate had widely 
sundered. 

The bridegroom had bated not one jot of 
manly dignity in claiming the hand which had 
once been refused him. The bride had sacri- 
ficed nothing of womanly delicacy in respond- 
ing to a sentiment which was but half revealed 
until her favor won its frank avowal. 



315 


316 


WEALTH AND AYINE. 


John was the first to congratulate his mo- 
ther, and his heart leaped for joy when Dr. 
Saunders addressed him as my son.” This 
placed him in a new position. He was to find 
a new home and new employment. 

Mabel Pease was left with the entire charge 
of her house, and now Mrs. Archer hoped that 
her nephew would be settled in life. Knowing 
from the lips of the young lady herself that 
Mabel was under no engagement of marriage, 
and feeling sure that the two were in sym- 
pathy upon all matters of principle, the 
scheming aunt could see no obstacle to the 
accomplishment of her desires. But here 
again she was doomed to disappointment 
when Winthrop Haj^es told her of his engage- 
ment to another. 

‘^Who is she? Who is her father? How 
did you become acquainted with her ? ” These 
questions were asked in a breath, as curiosity 
was for a time in the ascendant. 

She is an orphan, and I first saw her in 
the street,” was replied. 

“Is she rich?” 

^^Not rich in money.” 

^^How do you expect to live?” 

Upon what I can earn, and the income of 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


317 


wliat little property I have. That will be suf- 
ficient for us.” 

^^How much of an establishment will that 
support 

‘^Not much. But we shall not care for 
much. I have bought a small house, and paid 
for it. I am accustomed to narrow quarters, 
and my wife will be satisfied to live according 
to my means. Then, you know, I have no ex- 
travagant habits to support.” 

Why have I not heard of this before?” 
asked Mrs. Archer. 

Because it did not seem best for me to 
talk much about it until there was some 
occasion.” 

^^And Mabel. What is she to do?” 

Whatever she pleases, as usual,” was the 
laughing reply to this strange question. 

She has no need of sympathy. She may 
choose to live as did her Aunt Martha, whom 
she so much admires. Trust Mabel Pease for 
a happy and useful life.” 

^'Does she know of your engagement?” 

^^She has known it from the first.” 

‘^Por mercy’s sake, Winthrop, don’t tell me 
you are going to marry that Italian beggar.” 

This was too much. The gentleman an- 


318 


WEALTH AND WIND. 


swered sternly: My wife will be no beggar 
for favor or for money. I love Tessa Gavaz- 
zi as I never loved another, and, such as she 
is, I thank God that she is willing to be my 
wife. I hope you will learn to love her,” he 
added gently. 

‘‘It will not matter to you. You can live 
without me. You have a right to do as you 
please ; but you have sadly disappointed 
me.” 

Following this announcement and disap- 
pointment, Mrs. Archer remained at home for 
several days upon the plea of indisposition. 
A physician was summoned, who ordered 
stimulants and tonics ; while the servants 
whispered among themselves that the mis- 
tress had quite enough of wine before. 

No one could be more astonished than was 
Horace Hilton when his partner told him that 
Tessa Gavazzi would soon be Mrs. Winthrop 
Haj^es. He did not say, ‘‘And Mabel ; what 
will she do ? ” But his thoughts turned to her 
involuntarily, and he congratulated his friend 
with even more warmth than the occasion 
seemed to demand. 

The next evening he spent with Miss Pease, 
and, judging from the frequency of his sub- 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


319 


sequent calls, he must have found a new 
charm in her society. Jenny Bedlow, who 
was with her cousin, guessed the secret, and 
clapped her hands gleefully at the prospect of 
another wedding, before those most interested 
had decided that there would be a wedding. 

So the days went drifting by, until June 
brought again Grrandfather Bedlow’ s family 
around him ; Mabel with the others, and as 
cordially welcomed as any. Then how much 
there was to tell and hear ! Raleigh had ful- 
filled the most sanguine expectations of his 
friends. The farm had not suffered. He had 
prosecuted his studies advantageously, and 
was certain he could continue as he had com- 
menced. 

More company was expected. Mr. Hilton 
found it convenient to spend his vacation in 
the country, and was received as a friend. 
The circle of relatives and friends widened, 
and still there was room. 

The young student felt a new inspiration in 
the presence of the man who had made bis 
own way in the world, unaided by patronage 
or money which he had not earned. What 
another had done Raleigh Bedlow could do. 
Then it might be that, in assuming nev/ rela- 


820 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


tions. Cousin Mabel would find herself some- 
what restricted in the expenditure of her 
property. From a few carefully - uttered 
words Mabel divined this thought, and has- 
tened to set the matter right. 

‘^My property seems to be a troublesome 
appendage,” she said with a smile. ‘‘Mr. Hil- 
ton declines assuming the care of it, and I am 
not certain but he wishes I had not a dol- 
lar.” 

“Not quite that,” remarked the gentleman, 
who, unknown to the speakers, had heard 
their conversation. “ Excuse me. I did not 
intend to play the part of a listener, but, the 
door being ajar, I needs must hear. I would 
not deprive any one of the pleasure of doing 
good ; and money is a wondrous power for 
weal or woe. Yet it was never my ambition 
to marry an heiress.” 

More he did not choose to say. AYith a 
smile, a bow, and a graceful wave of the hand, 
he walked away, leaving the cousins to them- 
selves. 

Horace Hilton could not ask Mabel Pease 
to leave the house she had arranged and beau- 
tified with her own hands to accept a home 
with himself and his mother. This home had 


WEALTH A^D WINE. 


831 


seemed luxurious to its occupants when first 
they found themselves established within its 
four walls ; and here the mother chose to 
spend her life. 

Had there been less of true love between the 
parties, it is probable that the discussions 
upon this point would have resulted unhap- 
pily. As it was, there could be no positive 
disagreement, although differing opinions were 
firmly maintained. The lady insisted that her 
lover should share with her the home she had 
established, yet assured him, with unaffected 
sincerity, that, did circumstances demand it, 
she could live happily with him in the hum- 
blest cottage. 

‘^It is the severest trial to which my pride 
and independence have ever been subjected ; 
yet I yield to you what I would yield to no 
one else,” he said gently; and thus the ques- 
tion was settled. 

Mabel remained at Mr. Bedlow’s, after the 
other guests had departed, until within a few 
days of the event which was to seal her life’ s 
destiny. Only the nearest and dearest friends 
of the bride and bridegroom were invited to 
witness the wedding ceremony. Then fol- 
lowed a hasty leave-taking, and the happy 


322 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


couple started on a journey of several 
Aveeks. 

Wintlirop Hayes remained in tlie office do- 
ing tlie work of two men, and solacing liimself 
as best lie could with anticipations of his oavii 
marriage. Mr. Archer often visited him, 
pleading sometimes as an excuse that home 
was lonely, and that a man at sixty was too 
old to enjoy fashionable parties. Then, too, 
he missed Mabel, avIio seemed to him almost 
like a daughter, and Avho always had a cozy 
corner for him in her pleasantest room. 

‘‘1 suppose you don’t envy Hilton?” said 
this gentleman during one of his visits. 

‘^1 certainly do not,” was the quick re- 
sponse. ^Mle deserves just such a woman as 
Mabel, and she deserves just such a man as 
he is. I tliink they understand each other. 
She will trust him entirely, and he ivill never 
trench upon her individuality. Her life could 
never be absorbed by another, and he Avill 
love her all the more for having some re- 
sources of happiness apart from him.” 

‘‘He is very different from you, Win- 
throp.” 

Yes, sir, I am a selfish felloAv at the best. 
I don’t believe I shall be an unkind husband. 


WEALTH AIs^^D WIHE. 


323 


I slioiild hate myself, if I thought there was 
a possibility of that ; yet I must confess that 
I would rather my wife should find all her 
happiness in me and my interests.” 

know you would, and there are many 
men who have the same feeling. But such 
men are not always the best husbands. They 
usually give far less than they receive, and 
demand as their right many things they 
should regard as favors. I once said I should 
pity the woman who sacrificed herself upon 
the altar of your selfishness. Now I am not 
at all inclined to pity Tessa. The change in 
you has been almost miraculous.” 

‘^It was a very simple miracle,” replied 
Winthrop Hayes. “ I don’t wonder that you 
talked of the altar of my selfishness. Neither 
do I wonder that you have some fears for the 
happiness of my future wife. But Tessa is 
more to me than any other could be. My 
aunt does not approve my choice. Some 
time I hope she will.” 

I hope so,” echoed Mr. Archer with a sigh. 
‘‘Your aunt says you seldom visit her. She 
complains of your neglect.” 

“I have no intention to neglect her. I re- 
gard her no less than when I spent so much 


324 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


of my time with her. I called yesterday, but 
Mary said she was lying down.” 

‘^Winthrop, I don’t know as I ought to 
tell you : but I must tell some one, and 
there is nobody else. I wish you had insisted 
upon seeing your aunt yesterday. Have you 
ever thought — liave you ever suspected— I 
can’t say it,” added the speaker, shading his 
face with his hand. 

‘"Is it possible that my aunt is ever intoxi- 
cated with wine?” asked the younger man. 
“I have thought of it, but I dismissed the 
thought as an insult to her, and fancied that 
my senses had deceived me.” 

I cannot be deceived in the matter. When 
you called yesterday, she was probably under 
the influence of wine. Her health is not good, 
and she insists that she cannot live without 
stimulants ; but I know that the gratiflcation 
of appetite is the ruling motive. I have rea- 
soned with her, and entreated her to give up 
the habit. If commands would effect any- 
thing, I should command her, much as I de-' 
spise the idea of a husband exercising autho- 
rity over his wife. When I think I have 
removed evory drop of wine from the house, 
she finds a way to obtain it. I cannot stoop to 


WEALTH AND WIHE. 


325 


talk to the servants about it. I don’ t think she 
has ever drunk to excess in public ; but unless 
she reforms, she will soon lose all self-control. 
Tell me what to do, Winthrop.” 

I don’t know,” was the reply. You have 
my sympathy, and I will help you if I can. 
Five years ago no one could have made me 
believe that you would ever need my sympa- 
thy for such a cause. When I realized the 
necessity of a reform in my own habits, and 
knew there was no hope for me except in total 
abstinence, I was not ready to denounce 
fashionable wine-drinking as a curse. I was 
sure that the majority of men and women 
could drain their glasses in brilliantly -lighted 
rooms without fear of danger. Since then I 
have changed my mind. There is but a step 
between moderate drinking and unlimited in- 
dulgence, and that step is often taken uncon- 
sciously. I am not going to say that drinking 
a glass of wine is in itself a sin, yet I do say 
that conditions and circumstances may maize 
it a sin, and the drinker be responsible for re- 
sults of which he never dreamed.” 

Another consideration,” rejoined Mr. Ar- 
cher. The drinker may at any .time change 
his habits, but he can never hope to destroy 


326 


WEALTH AHD WINE. 


tlie evil effects of liis example and influence. 
I have been guilty in this matter. Happy 
the man or woman who has not.” 

Long after he was left alone, Winthrop 
Hayes sat debating with himself what could 
be done to save an honored name from dis- 
grace. He might appeal to his aunt ; but she 
would probably regard the appeal as an im- 
pertinence, and go on in her chosen way. He 
was unable to reach any satisfactory conclu- 
sion, and it was not until after his partner’ s 
return that he found an opportunity to call 
upon Mrs. Archer. 

She was then conflned to her bed by actual 
sickness, and declined seeing him. He went di- 
rectly to Mabel, whom he had not yet learned 
to address by her new name. Here it was not 
necessary that he should betray the confldence 
which had been reposed in him. His aunt’s 
unfortunate habits were already known to 
Mrs. Hilton. 

have been aware of it for several months, 
but I have never spoken of it to any one,” she 
said in a low tone. 

‘^And you have done nothing?” 

‘ ‘ What cauld I do ? Mrs. Archer considers 
me a fanatic. She would not listen to me, 


VfEiS.LTn A^D WINE. 


327 


even sliould I presume to remonstrate with 
lier. If she should be seriously ill, there 
might be some hope for her, provided her 
physician was not a believer in alcoholic 
remedies.” 

^^If that is the only ho]3e, then she is 
doomed,” was the reply. 

But this was not absolutely certain, al- 
though her nephew might well be pardoned 
for so believing. The illness, which from the 
first had resisted ordinary treatment, was at 
length pronounced dangerous ; and, provi- 
dentially as it seemed, upon the very day 
this decision was reached. Dr. George Saun- 
ders came with his wife to visit Mr. . and Mrs. 
Hilton. He was invited to meet in consulta- 
tion with Mrs. Archer’s physician. His repu- 
tation entitled him to marked respect ; and he 
expressed his opinions with great force and 
clearness. He prescribed a course which he 
believed would effect the recovery of the 
patient, at the same time insisting upon entire 
abstinence from alcoholic stimulants. 

Under the new treatment the invalid began 
slowly to improve. But with returning 
strength returned the cravings of appetite for 
accustomed indulgence. From day to day she 


328 


WExVLTir ATs'D AVIl^E. 


was disappointed at the non-appearance of 
favorite cordials which had before solaced the 
tedium of a sick-room. Her physician denied 
them to her. Her nurse could neither be per- 
suaded nor bribed to procure them. Her hus- 
band anticipated every wish save this she 
dared not express to him. 

When able to go below stairs, she found that 
her confidential servant had been dismissed. 
She did not need to ask why this was done. 
She was too proud to complain ; and now, 
forced to refiect upon her past life, she 
secretly resolved to surprise her friends by 
becoming a rigid teetotaler. Other resolves, 
too, were made, all to be carried into effect 
without explanation. 

Tessa Gavazzi was staying with Mrs. Hilton, 
and her first call was made upon this young 
lady, whom she met graciously and affection- 
ately. She was never more agreeable, never 
more seemingly oblivious of herself. She was 
interested in all which concerned her nephew 
and his prospects. At the proper time she 
sent an elegant gift to the bride-elect, and by 
her presence countenanced the marriage she 
bitterly regretted. 

‘^When all our friends are married and 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


329 


settled to housekeeping, I intend to look 
around for some friendless girl needing sucli a 
home as I can give lier,” remarked Horace 
Hilton's mother as she talked with her 
daughter-in-law. ‘^Horace has provided so 
generously for me that, with a little economy, 
I can provide for another ; and, as I grow 
older, I shall like to feel that there is some 
one growing up in my house. I am used to 
making the most of things.” 

^‘And the best of things,” was replied. 

There are plenty of friendless girls needing 
homes. I have just heard, too, that there is 
to be another new home established.” 

^^Who are to be the proprietors?” 

Clara Truman and Jefferson Moulton. 
You remember we were all interested in him 
at the time Mr. Hayes found him in such a 
deplorable condition.” 

Yes, I do remember. It was Miss Truman 
who tempted him to break his pledge. I won- 
der that she dares to trust him. Perhaps I 
should under the same circumstances ; but I 
should sooner trust one who had never fallen.” 

‘^So should I, mother. The shadow of a 
doubt or fear as to my husband’s uprightness 
would give me such a sense of insecurity thar 
I could never be happy.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


THE LAST LESSOIT. 

ARY! Mary! Mary Lanman!” 
This name was shrieked in 
shrillest accents, then muttered 
hoarsely, and anon wailed forth 
like the cry of an infant. In spasms of pain, 
in starts of affright, and in the stupor induced 
by powerful opiates, the call was ever the 
same. 

Windows were tightly closed and doors 
carefully guarded, lest the call should be 
heard without, and the secret of the sick-room 
revealed. ^‘An aggravated case of brain 
fever,” said the physician when asked in 
regard to the disease which had prostrated 
Mrs. Ermengarde Warland ; but he knew, 
and all her family knew, that she was the 
victim of mania d potu. 

It is a common malady, more common than 
is often suspected ; yet in the most luxuri- 
ously-furnished apartments, as well as in 



WEALTH AND WINE. 


331 


noisome cellars, it is to be dreaded and con- 
cealed. Its terrors, its tortures, its attendant 
spirits of evil, and its fearful forebodings are 
everywhere counted a shame and disgrace. 

Several previous attacks had so weakened 
the sufferer that, at her advanced age, it 
seemed impossible for her again to rally. It 
was believed that death would soon come to 
her relief. But still she lived, calling at in- 
tervals for Mary Lanman, and refusing to ac- 
cept any explanation for the absence of this 
friend. 

As a last resort, Mr. John Warland went 
himself for Mrs. Bennett, who, despite the 
infirmities which had greatly increased since 
she made the journey five years before, was 
induced to return with him. Not until she 
reached the house was she told the true con- 
dition of her former mistress. 

^^Mrs. Ermengarde a drunkard!” she then 
exclaimed in her astonishment. 

^‘But one of our family has ever deserved 
that epithet,” was the haughty reply. We 
hold ourselves above such vulgarity.” 

‘^Call it by what name you please, John 
Warland. I- am an old woman, and I have no 
quarrel with you. But you may as well hear 


332 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


tlie truth. The Waiiaiids have been hard 
drinkers for five generations. Mrs. Ermen- 
garde is not the first of her father’s family 
who has fallen. Take warning in time, lest 
you, too, come down to your grave dis- 
honored.” 

‘^Mrs. Bennett, you forget yourself. We 
are not used to dictation.” 

With Q-od there is no respect of persons,” 
said the woman solemnly. ‘^He will not ask 
you or any member of your family how much 
of punishment you will accept. In his own 
time and way it will be meted out, and you 
must submit. I have finished my sermon, and 
am ready to see Mrs. Ermengarde.” 

^‘Mary! Mary! Mary Lanman ! ” 

Yes, Mrs. Ermengarde. I am sorry I have 
kept you waiting so long.” 

‘ ^ How could you, Mary, when I wanted you 
so much? Don’t go away again. Sit down 
here where I can see you, and don’t let — don’t 
let—” 

Here the voice died away in a whisper, as 
though the words uttered were too dreadful 
to be spoken aloud. 

will take care of you,” was replied. 

You can close your eyes, and go to sleej). I 


WEALTH AHD WINE. 


333 


will sit beside you, and see that nothing hurts 
you.” 

knew you would, Mary, if you were 
only here. You were always a good girl. 
But you have been so long in coming. There ! 
There ! Don’t you see ? ” 

Drive those creatures from the room,” 
commanded Mrs. Bennett, and the attendant 
seemed to obey the command. Again and 
again was this scene enacted, until exhaustion 
was followed by profound sleep. Upon wak- 
ing, and finding Mrs. Bennett beside her, the 
suffering woman begged for a glass of wine. 
So piteously did she plead that it was hard 
to refuse her ; but the physician’s orders were 
peremptory. 

Another morning dawned, and now another 
cry was heard : Hastings ! Hastings ! ” 

When told that Hastings was dead, Mrs. 
Ermengarde Waiiand insisted upon seeing his 
son. She would not be denied. She must 
see this boy, tho only boy in the genera- 
tion. 

A telegram was despatched to the young 
man, and at the earliest hour possible he 
arrived at his uncle’s house. He was not ex 
pected so soon ; but he did not come before 


334 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


liis presence and services were required. For 
a moment Ms aunt seeined to recognize Mm. 
Tlien the demon’s spell was again upon her. 

It was terrible to witness her struggles, as 
she strove to escape from the horrors with 
which a disordered fancy surrounded her. 
More terrible, perhaps, than even this was the 
going out of her life in utter darkness. Yet 
all was but the penalty she had herself in- 
curred, the retribution for a sin whose punish- 
ment cannot . be evaded. 

When there was no further need of conceal- 
ment, there was much of pomp and display. 
There were sable trappings and stately cere- 
monies ; lilies and immortelles. Fragrant 
flowers of creamy whiteness gave forth their 
perfume like incense ; and the world looked 
on while the pageant was enacted. 

Mrs. Bennett, longing for the rest and quiet 
of her own humble home, did not remain to 
witness it. 

There was another who would gladly have 
absented himself, and to whom all this dis- 
j)lay seemed but empty mockery; the tinsel 
covering of some hidden horror. Had the 
young nephew needed the most impressive 
lesson it was possible to receive, except 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


335 


tlirougli actual, personal experience, tliis need 
was now supplied. He loatlied tlie very 
tliouglit of wine. Plencefortli it would bo 
to liim like some poisoned .draught whose 
exhalations are a warning of its deadly power. 

Upon reading the last will and testament of 
the deceased, it was found that after various 
bequests, in which all her immediate family 
were generously remembered, John Hastings 
Waiiand, as residuary legatee, was heir to all 
property not otherwise devised. A general 
astonishment followed this revelation ; and no 
one was more astonished than he who had 
so constantly omitted the use of his middle 
name that few would recognize him as the 
person designated. He had not desired this 
fortune. He did not stay to ask its value. 

Would it bring with it a curse? 

His mother half feared it. His Grraiidfather 
Bedlow expressed his fears so soon as he knew 
what had transpired, adding, with an ominous 
shake of his head, “John is aWarland.” 

It must be, however, that the old man for- 
got his fears when a few months later John 
came to him, and, sitting down beside him, 
talked of the good which must be done with 
this money. 


B36 


WEALTH AND WINE. 


I had known five years ago that I 
should now have so mnch at my control, it 
might have mined me,” he said. 

“'No doubt it' would, my boy,” replied his 
grandfatheT. ‘‘It don’t seem now as though 
it Avould. It don’t seem so — not if you’ve 
told me the truth. Your father thinks it 
won’t, and I allow him to be a judge. He’s a 
bright man, as well as a good one.” 

“ Yes, he is, grandfather. But I don’t think 
anybody knows how good he is, except mother 
and me. I should love him for making mo- 
ther so happy, if he did nothing for me. I 
wish I was his own son. I would gladly ex- 
change my inheritance of money for the in- 
heritance of a truly honorable name.” 

Of all his friends, Mrs. Archer was, perhaps, 
the only one who did not question whether 
this inheritance was really a blessing. She 
had changed much since the illness which had 
brought her so near to the grave ; yet she still 
worshipped at the shrine of wealth and fash- 
ion. John Waiiand’s deferential manners 
had won her favor long before she was willing 
to accord him more than tlie most distant re- 
cognition. Now she praised him as a. “gen- 


WEALTH AjSTD WINE. 


337 


tleman, worthy of the position he was destined 
to occupy.” 

Raleigh Bedlow, noble fellow that he was, 
would not listen to a doubt of his Cousin 
John’s integrity, although, in his secret heart, 
he wished that Mrs. Ermengarde Waiiand had 
bestowed her property elsewhere. 

Time has proved that even the vague feeling 
which prompted this wish need not have been. 


There is wealth without the curse of wine. 



PUBLICATIONS 



ational 


or THE 

temperance 



^ND j^UBLICATION ^OUSE. 


'p'HE National Temperance Society, organized in 1866 for the purpose 
of supplying a sound and able Temperance literature, have already 
stereotyped and published three hundred and fifty publications of 
all sorts and sizes, from the one-page tract up to the bound volume of 500 
pages. This list comprises books, tracts, and pamphlets, containing 
essays, stories, sermons, arguments, statistics, history, etc., upon every 
phase of the question. Special attention has been given to the department 


For Sunday-School Libraries. 

Over fifty volumes have already been issued, written by some of the best 
authors in the land. These have been carefully examined and unani- 
mously approved by the Publication Committee of the Society, represent- 
ing the varioi^ religious denominations and Temperance organizations of 
the country, which consists of the following members : 


PETER CARTER, 

Rev. W. M. TAYLOR, 
A. A. ROBBINS, 

Rev. M. C. SUTPHEN, 
T. A. BROUWER, 

J. N. STEARNS, 


Rev. J. B. DUNN, 

Rev. a. G. LAWSON, 
Rev. ALFRED TAYLOR, 
R. R. SINCLAIR, 

Rev. C. D. FOSS, 

JAMES BLACK, 


Rev. william HOWELL TAYLOR. 


These volumes have been cordially commended by leading clergymen 
of all denominations, and by various national and State bodies, all over 
the land. 

The following is the list, which can be procured through the regular 
Sunday-School trade, or by sending direct to the rooms of the Society : 


Rev. Dr. Willoughby and liis Wine. i2mo, 458 pages. By Mrs. Mary 
Spring Walker, author of The Family Doctor,” etc, . . . $1 60 

Tliis thrillingly interestic - hook depicts in a vivid manner the terrible influence exerted by 
thoee who stand as the servants of God, and who sanction the social custom of wine-drinking. 
It is fair and faithful to the truth. It is not a bitter tirade against the church or the ministry 
On the contrary, i t plainly and earnestly acknowledges that the ministry is the friend of morali'y, 
and the great bulwark of practical virtue. 


At Lion’s Mouth, i2mp, 410 pp. By Miss Mary Dwinell Chellis, author 
of “ Temperance Doctor,” ‘'^Out of the Fire,” “Aunt Dinah’s 
Pledge,” etc., . . $1 26 

This is one of the best books ever Issued, written in a simple yet thrilling and interest- 
ing style. It speaks boldly for the entire suppression of the liquor trafllc, depicting vividly the 
misery and wrongs resulting from it. The Christiai^tone is most excellent, showing the nece*. 
sity of God’s ^ace in the heart to overcome temptation and the power of appetite, and the 
influence whien one zealous Christian can exert upon his companions and the eemmwity. 


The National Temperance Society s Books 


Aunt Dinah’s Pledg-e. izmo, 318 
pages. By Miss Mary Dwinell 
Chellis, author of “ Temperance 
Doctor,” ” Out of the Fire,” 
etc., $1 25 

Aunt Dinah was an eminent Christian wo- 

man Her pledge included swearing and smok- 
ing, as well as drinking. It saved her boj’s, 
who lived useful lives, and died happy; and 
by quiet, yet loving and persistent work, names 
of many others were added ^Yho seemed almost 
beyond hope of salvation. 

The Temperance Doctor, izmo, 370 

pages. By Miss Mary Dwinell 
Chellis, $1 25 

This is a true story, replete with interest, 
and adapted to Sunday-school and family resid- 
ing In it we have graphically depicted the 
sad ravages that are caused by the use of intox- 
icating beverages ; also, the blessings of Tem- 
perance, and what may be accomplished by one 
earnest soul for that reform. It ought to find 
leaden in every household. 

Out of the Fire, izmo, 4 Z 0 pages. 
By Miss Mary Dwinell Chellis, 
author of “ Deacon Sim’s Pray- 
ers,” etc., $1 25 

It is one of the most effective and impressive 
Temperance books ever published. The evils 
of the dfinking customs of society, and the 
blessings hf sobriety and total abstinence, are 
strikingly developed in the history of various 
families in the community. 

History of a Threepenny Bit. i 8 mo, 
216 pages, $0 75 

This is a thrilling story, beautifully illus- 
trated with five choice wood engravings. The 
story of little Peggy, the drunkard’s daughter, 
is told in such a simple yet interesting manner 
that no one can read it without realizing more 
than ever before the nature and extent of in- 
temperance, and sympathizing more than ever 
with the patient, suffering victim. It should 
be in every Sunday-school library. 

Adopted. i 8 mo, Z 36 pages. By 
Mrs. E. J. Richmond, author of 
“ The McAllisters,” . . . $0 60 

This book is written in an easy, pleasant 
yle, seems to be true to nature, true to itself, 
and withal is full of the Gospel and Temper- 
ance. > 

9 

The Red Bridge. i 8 mo, 3 Z 1 pages. 
By Thrace Talman, . . $0 90 

We have met with few Temperance stories 
rontainin- so many evidences of decided ability 
and hightlter.ary excellence as this. 


The Old Brown Pitcher, izmo, 
zzz pages. By the Author of 
“Susie’s Six Birthdays,” “The 
Flower of the Family,’’ etc., $1 00 

Beauttrully illustrated. This admirable vol- 
ume for boys and girls, containing original 
stories by some of the most gifted, writere for 
the young, will be eagerly welcomed by the 
children. It is adapte t alike for the family 
circle and the Sab bath -school library. 

Our Parish. i 8 mo, 25Z pages. By 
Mrs. Emily Pearson, . . $0 75 

The'maiiifold evils resulting from the “ still ” 
to the owner’s family, as well as to the families 
of his customers, are truthfully presented. The 
characters introduced, such as are found in 
almost every good-sized village, are well por- 
trayed. W^e can unhesitatingly commend it, 
and bespeak for it a wide circulation 

The Hard Master. i 8 mo, Z 78 pages 
By Mrs. J. E. McConaughy, au- 
thor of “ One Hundred Gold Dol- 
lars,” and other popular Sunday- 
School books, $0 85 

This interesting narrative of the temptations, 
trials, hardships, and fort^^s of poor orphan 
boy illustrates in a most striking manner the 
value of “ right principles,” especially of 
honesty truthrulness, and Temperance. 

Echo Bank. i 8 mo, Z 69 pages. By 

Ervie, . . . . . . .. . $0 8t> 

This is a well-written and deeply interesting 
narrative, in which is clearly shown the suffer- 
ing and sorrow that tco often follow and the 
dangers that attend boys and young men at 
school and at college, who suppose they can 
easily take a glass or two occasionally, with- 
out mar of ever being aught more than a mode- 
rate drinker. 

Bachel Noble’s Experience. i 8 mo, 

zzi; pages. By Bruce Edwards. 

$0 90 

This is a story of thrilling interest, ably and 
eloquently told, £. id is an excellent hook for 
Sunday-school libraries. It is just the book for 
the home circle, and cannot be read without 
benefiting the reader and advancing the cause 
of Temp^ance. 

Gertie’s Sacrifice ; or Glimpses at 
Two Li?es." i 8 mo, 189 pages. By 
Mrs. F. D. Gage, . . . . $0 60 

A story of great interest and power, givinga 
“ glimpse at two lives,” and showing ho« 
Gertie sacrificed herself as a rietim of fainlon, 
custom, and law. 


t 


The National Temperance Societfs Books. 


Time will Tell. i2ino, 307 pages. 
By Mrs. Wilson, .... $1 00 

A Temperance tale of thrilling interest and 
unexceptionable moral and religious tone. It 
is full of incidents and characters of everyday 
life, while its lessons are plainly and forcibly 
set before the reader. The pernicious results 
of the drinking usages in the family and social 
circle are plainly set forth. 

Philip Eckert’s Struggles aiitl 
Triumphs. i8mo, 216 pages. Bv 
the author of “ Margaret Clair,’’ 

$0 60 

This interesting narrative of a noble, manly 
boy* in an intemperate home, fighting with the 
wrong and battling for the right, should be 
read by every child in the land. 

Jug-Or-\ot. i2mo, 346 pages. By 
Mrs. J. McNair Wright, author 
of “John and the Demijohn,” 
“Almost a Nun,” “ Priest and 
Nun, ’’etc., $1 26 

It is one of her beat books, and treats of the 
physical and hereditary effects of drinking in a 
dear, plain, and familiar style, adapted to 
lopular 1 eading, and which should be read by 
all idasses in the community, and find a place 
in every Sunday-school library. ^ 


Frank Oldfield ; or, Lost and Found. 
i2mo, 408 pages, . . . . $1 60 

This excellent story received the prize of 
XlOO in England, out of eighty-three manu- 
scripts submitted ; and by an arrangement 
with the publishers we publish it in this coun- 
try with all the original illustrations. It is 
admirably adapted to Sunday-school libraries. 

Tom Blinn’s Temperance Society, 
and other Stories. i2mo. 316 
pages, $1 26 

This is the title of a new book written by 
T. y. Arthur, the well-known author of “ Ten 
Nights in a Bar-room,” and whose fame as an 
autlior should bey)eak for it a wide circulation. 
It is written in Mr. Arthur’s best style^conj 
posed of a series o tales adapted to every family 
and library in the land. 

The Barker Family. i2mo, 336 
pages. By Emily Thompson, 

$1 26 

A simple, spirited, and interesting narrative, 
written in a style especially attractive, depict- 
ing the evils that arise from intemperance, and 
the blessings that followed the earnest efforts 
of those who sought to win others to the paths 
ot total abstinence. Illustrated with three en- 
gravings. The book will please all. 


The Broken Rock. i8mo, 139 pages. 
By Kri^Na, author of “ Lift a 
Little,” etc., $0 60 

It beauti ully. illustrates the silent and holy 
influence of a meek and lowly spirit upon the 
heartless rumsellor until the rocky heart was 
uroken. 

Andrew Douglass. i8mo, 232 pages, 

$0 76 


Come Home, Mother. iSmo, 1x3 
pages. By Nelsie Brook. Il- 
lustrated with six choice engrav- 
ings, . $0 50 


A most effective and interesting book, de- 
scribing the downward course of the mother, 
and giving an account of the sad scenes, bttt ef- 
fectual endeavors, of the little one in bringing 
her mother back to Irieuds, an^i leading her to 
God. It should be read by evei^body. 


A new Temperance story for Sunday-schools, 
written in a lively, energetic, and popular 
rtyle, adapted to the Sabbath-sehool and the 
family circle. 

Vow at the Bars. i8mo, 108 pages. 

$0 40 

It contains four short tales, ill ustratingfour 
important principles connected with the Tem- 
perance movemeut, and is well adapted for the 
family circle and Sabbath-school libraries. 

Job Tufton’s Rest. 221110, 312 
pages, $1 26 

A story of life’s struggles, written by the 
gifted author, Clara. Lucas Balfour, depict- 
ing most skilfully and truthfully many a life- 
struggle with the demon of intemperance oc- 
curring all along life’s pathway. It i s a finely 
written storv, and full of interest from the be- 
ginning to tne end. > 


Tim’s Tfoublei. i2mo, 35® pages. 
By Miss M. A. Paull, . . $4 60 

This is the second Prize Book of the United 
Kingdom Band of Hope Union, reprinted in this 
country with all the original illustrations. It 
is the companion of “ Frank Oldfield,” written 
in a high tone, and will be found a valuable 
addition to our Temperance literature. 

Tho Drinking Fountain Stories. 
i2mo, 102 pages, .... $1 00 

Thie book of illustrated etoriee for children 
ocmtains articles from some of the best writen 
for children in America, and is beautifully il- 
lustrated with forty choice wood engravings. 

The White Rose. By Mary J. Bedg 
es. i6ino, 320 pages, . . $1 26 

The gift of a simple white rose was the meant 
of leading those who cared for it to the Saviour. 
How it was done it very pleasantly told, and 
also the wrongs resulting tu the use of strong 
druk forcibly shown. 


The National Temperance Society's Books 


H^edale Tavern, and What it 
Wrought. i2mo, 252 pages. By 
J. William Van Namee, . $1 00 

It shows the sad results which followed the 
Introduction of a Tavern and Bar in a beauti- 
ful and quiet country town, whose inhabitants 
had hitherto lived in peace and enjoyment 
The contrast is too plainly presented to fail to 
produce an impression on the reader, making 
all more desirous to' abolish the sale of ail in- 
toxicants 


The Pitcher of Cool Water. i8ino, 

180 pages. By T. S. Arthur, 
author of Tom Blinn’s Temper- 
ance Society,” ” Ten Nights in a 
Bar-room,” etc., . . . . $0 50 

This little book consists of a series of Tern 
perance stories, liandsomely illustrate, written 
in Mr. Arthur’s bast style, and is altogether 
one of the best books which can be placed in 
the hands of children. Every Sund > -school 
library should possess it. 


Roy’s Search; or, Lost in the Cars. 
i2mo, 364 pages. By Helen C. 
Pearson, $1 25 

This new Temperance book is one of the 
most interesting ever published — written in a 
fresh, sparkling style, especially adapted to 
please the boys, and contains so much that 
will benefit as well as amuse and interest that 
w6 wish ail the boys in the land might read it. 


How Could He Escape? i2mo, 324 
pages. By Mrs. J. NcNair 
Wright, author of “Jug-Or- 
Not.” Illustrated with ten en- 
gravings, designed by the au- 
thor, $1 25 


This is a true tale, and one of the writer’s 
best productions. It snows the terrible effects 
of even one glass ^of intoxicating liquor upon 
the system of one unable to resist its influences, 
and the necessity of grace in the heart to resist 
temptation and overcome the appetite for strong 
drink. 


The Best Fellow in the World. 

i2mo, 352 pages. By Mrs. J. 
McNair Wright, autnor of “ Jug- 
Or-Notji?’ ” How Could He Es- 
cape?” “ Priest and Nun,” $1 *25 

“The Best Fellow,” whose^ourse is here 
portrayed, is one of a very large class who are 
led astray and ruined simply because they are 
such “ good fellows.” To all such the volume 
speaks in thrilling tones of warning, shows the 
inevitable consequences of indulging in strong 
drink, and the necessity of divine grace in the 
heart to interpose and save from ruin. 

Frank. Spencer’s Rule of Life. 
i8mo, 180 pages. By John W 
Kirton, author of “ Buy Your 
Own Cherries,” “ Four Pillars of 
Temperance,” etc., etc., . $0 50 

This is written in the author’s best style, 
waking an interesting and attractive story lor 
diildren. 

Work and Reward. i8mo, 183 pp. 
By Mrs. M. A. Holt, . $0 50 

It shows that not the smallest effort to do 
good is lost sight of by the all-knowing Father, 
and that faith and prayer must accompany all 
iestperaaca efiorte. 


Little Girl in Black. i2mo, 212 

pages. By Margaret E. Wil- 

MER, $0 90 

Her strong faith in God, who she believes 
will reclaim an erring father, is a lesson to the 
reader, old as well as young. 

Temperance Anecdotes. i2mo, 288 

pages, $1 00 

This new book of Temperance Anecdotes, 
edited by George W. Bungay, contains near- 
ly four hundred Anecdotes, Witticisn.*, Jokes, 
Conundrums, etc. , original and selected, and 
will meet a want long felt and often expressed 
by a very large number of the numerous friends 
ol the cause m the land. The book is hand- 
somely illustrated with twelve choice wood 
engravings. 

The Temperance Speaker. By J. 

N. Stearns, $0 75 

The book contains 288 pages of Declamations 
and Dialogues suitable tor Sunday and Day- 
Schools, Bands of Hope, and Temperance Or- 
ganizations. It consists of choice selections 
of prose and poetry, both new and old, from 
the Temperance orators and writers of the 
countrj', many of which have been written ex- 
pressly for this work. 

The McAllisters. i8mo, 211 pages. 

By Mrs. E. J. Richmond, . $0 50 

It shows the ruin brought on a family by the 
father’s intemperate habits, and the strong 
faith and trust of the wife in that Friend above 
who alone gives strength to bear our earthly 
trials. 

The Seymours. i2mo, 231 pages. 

By Miss L Bates, . . . $1 00 

A simple story, showing how a refined and 
cultivated family are brought low through the 
drinking habits of the father, their joy and sor- 
row as he reforms only to fall again, and his 
final happy rele-ase iu a distant cit5’. 

Zoil Rodman. lamo, 262 pages 

By Mrs. E. J. Richmond, $1 00 

Adapted more especially to young girls’ 
reading, showing the influence they wield in 
society, and their responsibility for much of 
its drinking usag es. 


4 


The National Temperance Society s Books, 


Eva’s En^ag-ement Ring:. 121110, 189 
pages. By Margaret E. Wil- 
MER, author of “The Little Girl 
in Black,” $0 90 

In this interesting volume is traced the career 
of the moderate drinker, who takes a glass in 
the name of friendship or courtesy. 

Packington Parish, and The Diver’s 
Daughter. i2mo, 327 pages. By 
Miss M. A. Paull, . . . $1 25 

In this volume we see the ravages which 
the liquor traffic caused when introduced in a 
hitherto quiet village, and how a minister’s ej’es 
were at length opened to its evils, though he 
had always declared wine to be a “good 
creature of God,” meant to be used in modera- 
tion. 

Old Times, 121110. By Miss M. D. 
Chellis, author of “ The Tem- 

g eraiice Doctor,” “Out of the 
ire,” “ Aunt Dinah’s Pledge>” 
“At Lion’s Mouth,” etc., . $1 25 

It discusses the whole subject of moderate 
drinking in the history of a New England vil- 
lage. The incidents, various and .amusing, are 
all facts, and the clijiracters nearly all drawn 
from real life. The five deacons which figure 
»o conspicuously actually lived .and .acted .as re- 
presented. 

John Bentley’s Mistake. i8mo, 
177 pages. By Mrs. M. A. Holt, 

$0 50 

It takes an important place among our tem- 
perance books, taking an earnest, bold stand 
against the use of cider as a beverage, proving 
that it is often the first step toward stronger 
drinks, forming an appetite for the more fiery 
liquids which cannot easily be quenched. 

Nothing to Drink. i2mo, 400 
pages. By Mrs. J. McNair 
Wright, author of “The Best 
Fellow in the World,” “Jug-or- 
Not,” “ How Could He Escape ?” 
etc., $1 50 

The story is of light-house keeper and 
thrilling adventures at sea, being nautical, 
scientific, and partly statistical, written in a 
charming, thrilling, and convincing manner. 
It goes out of the ordinary line entirely, most 
of the characters being portraits, its scenery 
all from absolute facts, every scientific and 
natural-history statement a veritj’, the sea in- 
cidents from actual experience from marine 
lisasters for the last ten years. 

Nettie Loriiig. lamo, 352 pages. 
By Mrs. Geo. S. Downs, $1 25 

It graphically describes the doings of sev- 
eral young ladies who resolved to use their 
influence on the side of temperance and banish 
wine from their entertainments, the scorn they 
•zcited, and the good results wnich followed. 


The Fire Fighters, i2mo, 294 pages. 
By Mrs. J. E. McConaughy, au- 
thor of “ The Hard Master,” 

$1 25 

An admirable story, showing how a number 
of young l.ads b.anded themselves into a society 
to fight against Alcohol, and the good they did 
in the community. 

The Jewelled Serpent. i2mo, 271 
pages. By Mrs. E. J. Richmond, 
author of “ Adopted,” “The Mc- 
Allisters,” etc., $1 00 

The story i 4 written earnestly. The charac- 
ters are w-dl delineated, and taken from the 
wealthy and fashionable portion of a 1 irge city. 
The evils wliich flow from fashionable drink- 
ing are well portrayed, and also the danger 
arising from the use of intoxic.ants when used as 
medicine, formmg an appetite which fastrns 
itself with a deadly hold upon its victim. • 

The Hole in the Bag, and Other 
Storie.s. By Mrs. J. P. Ballard, 
author of “The Broken Rock,’ 

“ Lift a Little,” etc. lamo, $1 00 

A collection of well-written stories by this 
most popular author on the subject of temper- 
ance, inculcating many valuable lessons in the 
iii'nds of its readers. 

The Glass Cable. i2mo, 288 pages. 
By Margaret E. AVilmer, au- 
thor of “The Little Gi l in 
Black,” “ Eva’s Engagement 
Ring,” etc., . . . . . $1 25 

The style of this book is good, the characters 
well selected, and its temperance and religious 
truths most excellent. The moral of the story 
shows those w'ho sneer at a child’s pledge, 
comparing its strength to a glass cable, that ht 
is in many cases strong enough to brave the 
storms aud temptations of a whole lifetime. 

Fred’s Hard Fight. i2mo, 334 
pages. By Miss Marion How- 
ard, $1 25 

While it shows the trials which a young lad 
endured through the temptations and entice- 
ments offered him by tliose opposed to his firm 
temperance and religious principles, and 
warns the reader against the use of every kind 
of alcoholic stimulant, it points also to Jesus, 
the only true source of strength, urging all to 
accept the promises of strength and salvation 
offered to every one who will seek it. 

The Dumb Traitor. i2mo, 336 pp. 
By Margaret E.Wilmek, $1 2:5 

Intensely interesting, showing how the 
prospects of a well-to-do New England family 
were blighted through the introduction of a 
box of wine, given in friendship, used as me- 
dicine, butproving a dumb traitor in- the end. 


The National Temperance Society s Books. 

Miscellaneous Publications. 


Forty Years’ Fight with the Drink 
Demon. i 2 mo, 400 pages. By 
Charles Jeweti’, M.D., . $1 60 

This volume comprises the history of Dr. 
Jewett’s public and private labors from 1826 to 
the present time, with sketches of the most 
popular and distinguished advocates of the 
cause in its earlier stages. It also records the 
results of forty years’ observation, study, and 
reflections upon the use of intoxicating drinks 
and drugs, and sugge.stions as to the best 
methods of advancing the cause, etc. Tlie book 
is handsomely bound, and contains illustrated 
portraits of early champions of the cause. 

Drops of Water. 12010 , 133 pages. 
By Miss Ella Wheeler, $0 75 

A new hook of fifty-six Temperance Poems 
by this young and talented authoress, suitable 
lor reading in Temperance Societies, Lodge 
Rooms, Divisions, etc. The simplicity of man- 
ner, beauty of expression, earnestness of 
thought, and nobleness of sentiment running 
through all of them make this book a real 
gem, worthy a place by the side of any of the 
poetry iu the country. 

Bound Tolume of Tracts. 500 
pages, $1 00 

This volume contains all the four, ei^ht, and 
twelve page tracts published by the>iational 
Temperance Society, including all the prize 
tracts issued the last two years. The book 
comprises Arguments, Statistics, Sketches, and 
Essays, which make it an invaluable collection 
for every friend of the Temperance Reform. 

Scripture Testimony Against In- 
toxicating Wine. By Rev. W m. 
Ritchie, of Scotland, . . $0 60 

An unanswerable refutation of the theory 
that the Scriptures favor the idea of the 
use of intoxicating M'ine as a beverage. It 
takes the different kinds of wines mentioned in 
the Scriptures, investigates their specific na- 
ture, aud shows wherein they differ. 

Alcohol: Its Place and Power, by 
James Miller ; and The Use and 
Abuse of Tobacco, by John Li- 
ZARS, . $1 00 

Zoological Temperance Convention. 
By Rev. Edward Hitchcock, 
D.D., of Amherst College, $0 76 

This fable gives an interesting and entertain- 
ing account of a Convention of Animals held 
in Central Arrica, aud reports the fcjSSSthes 
made on the occasion. 


Delavan’s Consideration of the Tem- 
perance Argument and History, 

$1 60 

This condensed and comprehensive work con- 
tains Essays and Selections from different au- 
thors, collected and edited by Edwakd C. Dk- 
LAVAN, Esq., and is one of the most valuable 
text-books on the subject of Temperance ever 
issued. 

Bible Rule of Temperance ; or. 
Total Abstinence from all Intox- 
icating Drinks. By Rev. George 
Duffield, D.D., . . . . $0 60 

This is the ablest and most reliable work 
which has been issued on the subject. Tiie im- 
morality of tlie us , sale, and manufacture of 
intoxicating liquors as a beverage is considered 
in the light of the Fcripfures, and the will and 
law of God clearly presented. 

Alcohol: Its IVature and Effects. 

By Charles A. Storey, M.D., 

.$0 90 

This is a thoroughly scientific work, yet 
written in afresh, vigorous, aud popular style, 
in language that the masses can understand. 
It consists of ten lectures carefully prepared, 
and is an entirely new w’ork by one amply com- 
petent to present the subject. 

Four Pillars of Temperance. By 
John W. Kirton, . . . $0 76 

The Four Pillars are. Reason, Science, Scrip- 
ture, and Experience. The book is argumenta- 
tive, historical, and statistical, and tne facts, 
appeals, and arguments are presented in a most 
convincing and masterly manner 

Communion Wine; or, Bible Tem- 
perance. By Rev. W^illiam M. 
Thayer. Paper, 20 cents ; cloth, 

$0 60 

An unanswerable argument against the use 
of intoxicating wine at Communion, and pre- 
senting the Bible argument in favor of total 
abstinence. 

Laws of Fermentation and Wines 
of the Ancients. i 2 mo, 129 pages. 
By Rev. Wm. Patton, D.D. 
Paper, 30 cts. ; cloth, . . $0 60 

It presents the whole matter of Bible Tem- 
perance and the wines of ancient times in a 
new, clear, and satis' actory manner, develop, 
ing the laws of fermentation, and giving a largo 
number of references and statistics never liotf'ro 
collected, showing conclusively the existence of 
unfermented wine iu the olden time. 


6 


V 


The National Temperance Society s Books, 


Text-Book of Temperance. By- 
Dr. F. R. Lees, $1 50 

We caa also furnish the above book, which is 
divided into the following parts ; 1. Temper- 
ance as a Virtue. ‘2. The Chemical History of 
Alcohol. 3 The Dietetics of TemperanM. 4. 
The Pathology of Intemperance. 5. The Medi- 
cal Question. G. Temperance in Relation to 
the Bible. 7. Historical. 8. The National 
Question and the Remedy. 9. The Philosophy 
of-Temperance. 

Bugle Notes for the Temperance 
Army. Price, paper covers, 30 
cents ; boards, $0 35 

A new collection of Songs, Quartets, and 
Glees, adapted to the use of all Temper.ance 
gatherings, Glee Clubs, etc., together with the 
Odes of the Sons of Temperance and Gocd 
Templars. 


Temperance Chimes. Price, in 
paper covers, 30 cents, single 
copies ; $25 per hundred. Price, 
in board covers, 35 cents ; per 

hundred, $30 00 

A Temperance Hymn and Tune-Book of 128 
pages, comprising a gre.nt variety ot Glees, 
Songs, and Hymns designed for the use ot Tem^ 
perance Meetings and Organizations, Bands of 
Hope, Glee Clubs, and the Home Circle. Many 
of the Hymns have been written expressly for 
this boox by some of the best writers in the 
country. 


Bound Tolumes of Sermons, $1 50 

Seventeen sermons delivered upon the invi- 
tation of The National Temperance Societv, 
and published in the National Series^ have all 
been bound in one volume, making 400 pages 
of the best temperance matter of the kind ever 
published. The sermons are by Re^. H^ry 
Ward Beecher, T L. Cuvier,! . De M itt Tal- 
mage, J B. Dunn, JohnUall, J. P. Newman, 
J. W. Mears, C. D. Foss, J. Rom ^n Berry, 
Herrick Johnson, Peter Stryker, C. H. ^^owler 
H C. Fish, H. W. Warren, S. H- Tyng, and 
W. M. Taylor. 


The Bases of the Temperance Re- 
form. i 2 mo, 224 pages. By Rev. 
Dawson Burns, . . . . $1 00 

This is also an English prize essay, which 
took the second prize under the liberal offer of 
James Teare for the best essay on the entire 
temperance question. A very able and tho- 
rougli exposition of the foundations on which 
the temperance cause is tounded and upbuilt. 
The author establishes in a clear and satisfac- 
tory manner the propositions that the drinking 
system is the greatest social evil in the _Lnd ; 
that intoxicating liquors are useless and injuri- 
ous as articles of diet; that intemperance is a 
true plague which can only he effectually 
pressed by the exclusion of intoxicating drinks ; 
that violence is done to the will of God and 
the welfare of man by approximating the 
Iruits of the earth to the production of intoxi- 
cating drinks: that the sacred Scriptures do 
not afford sanction to the use of intoxicating 
liquors. 


Bacchus Dethroned. i 2 mo, 248 
paares. By Frederick Powell, 

$1 00 

This is an English prize essay, written in re- 
sponse to a prize offered by James Teare, of 
England, for the best temperance ssay. It is 
one of the ablest and most convincing works 
ever issued. The question is presented in all 
its phases, physiological, social, political, 
moral, and religious It i very comprehen- 
sive, multiplying facts, abounding in ar^- 
raents, answering objections, and enforcing 
powerful and pathetic appeals. The author 
considers 1. The great n.ational curse. 2. 
The supposed dietetic value of alcoholic 
beverages. 3. The physiological rel.ations of 
intoxicating liquors. 4. The social and poli* 
tical argument. 5. The manufacture oi in- 
toxicating liquor an immorality. 6. Teetotal- 
ism a scientific truth. 7. Teetotalism in 
relation to the Bible. 8. God’s great remedy 
for the world’s great curse. 9. Legislation 
and the liquor traffic. 


The National Temperance Orator. i 2 mo, 288 pag^es, . . . $1 00 

This is issued in response to the many argent calls for a book similar to the “ New Tempe- 
rance Speaker,” used widely throughout the country. It contains articles^ the best temperance 
writers of the d.ay, poems, recitations, readings, dialogues, and choice extracts from speeches o 
some of the ablest temper.ance speakers in the country, for the use of all temperance workers 
Lodges, Divisions, Banda of Hope, etc., etc. 


Twenty-four Pagre Pamphlets. (With Covers.) 
Five Cents each : 60 Cents per Doz. 


Is Alcohol Food ! 

Physiological Action of Alcohol. 
Adulteration of Liquors. 

Will the Coming Man Drink Wine! 
History and Mystery of a Glass of Ala, 
Blbla Teetotalism. 


Medicinal Drinking. 

Drinking Usj^ei of Society. 
Fruits of the Liquor Traffic. 

Is Alcohol a Necessary of Life ! 
A High Fence of Fifteen Bart 
The Son of My Friend. 


The Natio7tal 


Temperance Society s Books, 


Pamphlets. 


John Swig. A Poem. By Edward 
Carswell. i 2 mo, 24 pages. Il- 
lustrated with eight characteristic 
engravings, printed on tinted 
paper, $0 15 

The Rum Fiend, and Other Poems. 
By William H. Burleigh. 121110. 
46 pages. Illustrated with three 
wood engravings, designed by 
Edward Carswell. . . . $0 20 

Suppression of the Liquor Traffic. 
A Prize Essay, by Rev. H. D. 
Kitchell, President of Middle- 
bury College. i 2 mo, 48 pp., .$0 10 


Bound and How; or. Alcohol as a 
Narcotic. By Charles Jewett, 
M D. i2mo, 24 pp., . . . $0 10 

Scri()tural Claims of Total Abstin- 
ence. By Rev. Newman Hall. 
i2mo, 62 pp., $0 15 

Buy Your Own Cherries. By John 
Kirton. icmo, 32 pp., $0 20 


National Temperance Almanac anfi 
Teetotaler’s Year Book for 1874, 
« .$0 10 


Illustrated Temperance Alphabet, 

$0 25 


The Youth’s Temperance Banner 

The National Temperance Society and Publication House publish a beautifully illustrated 
Monthly P.aper, especially adapted to children and youth, Sunday-school and Juvenile Tem- 
perance Organizations. Each number contains several choice engravings, a piece of music, and a 
great variety of articles from the pens of the best writers for children in America. It should be 
placed in the hands of every child in the land. 


Terms — in Advance. 


Single copies, one year,’ - 
Eight copies, to one address, 

Ten “ “ “ 

Fifteen “ “ “ 

Twenty** “ “ 


- $0 25 

Thirty copies, to one address. 

- 

- $3 75 

- 1 00 

Forty “ “ 


- 

- 5 00 

- 1 25 

Fifty “ “ 



- 6 25 

- 1 88 
- 2 50 

One Hundred “ 


• 

- 12 00 


The Total Abstainer’s Daily Witness and Bible Terdict. 75 Cents, 

This is a series of Scripture Text^ printed on thirty-one large sheets, arranged so that one can 
be used for each day in the month. Tlie size of each sheet is 19 by 12 inches, all fastened together 
with roller and cord, so as to be easily hung up in room, office, workshop, etc. ; and turning over 
a sheet day by daj’ as required. 


New Temperance Dialogues, 


The First Glass ; or, The Power of Wo- 
man’s Influence. 

The Young Teetotaler, or, Saved at 

Last. 15 cents each. Per dozen, . $1 50 
Reclaimed ; or, The D.anger of Mode- 
rate Drinking. 10 cents. Per 

dozen, 1 00 

Marry No Man if he Drinks ; or, Laura’s 
Plan and How^t Succeeded. 10 
cents. Per dozen, . . . . 1 00 


Which Will You Choose! 36 pages. 

By Miss M D. Chellis. 15 cents. 

Per dozen, .... . $1 ro 

Aunt Dinah’s Pledge. Dramatized, . 0 15 

The Temperance Doctor. Dramatized, 0 15 
Wine as a Medicine, loc Per dozen.. 1 00 
The Stumbling-Block. lOc. Per dozen, 1 00 
Trial and Condemnation of .Judas Woe- 

makei-. 1.5 cents. Per dozen, . . 1 50 
Temperance Exercise, . • . . 0 10 


Band of Hope Supplies, 


Band of Hope Manual. Per dozen, $0 60 
Temperance Catechism. Per dozen, 60 

Band of Hope Melodies. Paper, 10 

Band of Hope Ba<lge. Enamelled, $1 25 
per dozen; 12 cents singly. Plain, 

$1 per dozen ; 10 cents singly. 

Silver and Enamelled, 50 cents 
each. 


Juvenile Temperance Speaker. - - $0 2| 

Illuminated Temperance Cards. Set of 

ten, - ... 35 

Juvenile Temperance Pledges. Per 100, 3 00 
Certificates of Membership Per 100, - 3 00 
The Temperance .Spe.aker, - - - 75 

Catechism on Alcohol. By Miss Julia 

Colman. Per dozen, ... 60 


Ser t by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price. Address 

J. X. STHARXS, Publishing Agent, 


53 READE STREET, NEW YORK. 


























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